


Between Two Worlds

by fatmfanfics, little_machine



Category: Florence + the Machine, Maleficent (2014)
Genre: AU, Angst, F/F, Florabella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-02-19 18:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 46,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2398001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatmfanfics/pseuds/fatmfanfics, https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_machine/pseuds/little_machine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Florabella AU inspired by Maleficent (though the story itself is pretty much original).</p><p>Florence and Isabella live in two completely different worlds that should never collide. But life has something different planned, and one night everything changes...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, Tan and I started writing this fic in July and finished it last month and now it’s finally here! It's not my first fic, but I normally only post them on Tumblr, but Tan convinced me to post this one here as well... We’d like to ask you to be patient with this fic, guys. It has subplots and it’s full of details, so that’s why it’s long, but we promise you that there will be many florabella moments, so give it a chance :) This is just a prologue to tell you the general plot and background story, the real thing starts in the first chapter. Thank you, Kate (kaytydidd on tumblr) for being a sweetheart and betaing this for us <333  
> Enough of my ramblings, let’s go to the fic, shall we? We hope you like it :) Xx

The sun found its way through the window and onto the already empty bed. The Welch’s house – a small wooden house that looked more like a shack – was the first spot in the meadow to be illuminated by the sunlight every morning. It was just one of the advantages of living in the Magical Realm: let nature guide you. Let it show you when it’s time to wake up and go to bed. Even when living in such a paradise meant living _exiled_.

The world had been divided into two kinds of people a long, long time ago: the magical creatures – the so-called _Moors_ – and the ordinary human beings. The latter being considered too good, too _superior_ to get close to the savage, wild, unknown creatures that lived far, far away from the King’s land. Therefore the Moors had been isolated in a Magical Realm, forbidden to humans. No limits should ever be crossed, for either of them. There was a name for that: _Treaty of Peace_. The Kings of both realms had made that treaty years ago, in order to keep the order and peace for both of their people. And nobody had ever tried to break it.

The Magical Realm was located on the right-hand side of the river, and comprised of the smallest portion of land, even though it was home to countless creatures and hid more wealth than the King’s Land ever could. And most of the creatures still considered themselves _free_. Free to swim, free to walk around their side of the land, free to explore the places that belonged to them, free to watch, free to observe. And the most gifted of the creatures, who had been blessed with a pair of huge, strong wings, they could even _fly_.

Florence Welch was one of those creatures. She didn’t feel exactly _gifted_ , though, most of the time. She could fly around the limits of the Realm and have fun doing magic with her little sister, but there was a price to pay, and the price was _high_.

She was lying down on a high thick branch, playing around with flowers. When you have a lot of free time in your hands, you have to be creative and find things to do to keep yourself busy, and Florence was really good at coming up with new ideas. Her current favourite activity was breaking a few thin branches just so she could fix them all over again, making flowers bloom out of nowhere and them watching their petals fall out and fade away into the air. She also liked mimicking the birds’ singing, sometimes. Flying above the lake was another activity she loved dearly, and she even risked swimming every now and then – she was really good at it; she would keep her wings pressed against her back so she could swim faster than all the little mermaids that lived in the lake.

Having a creative mind, however, didn’t stop her from getting bored from time to time. She was only seventeen years old and there were more things she wanted to do, different things she wanted to discover. _Falling in love_ , for example, was something she couldn’t wait to experience. She had heard about it, she knew it existed, but she wanted to _feel_ it. Until she lived it, it was nothing but a myth to her, and she was starting to get slightly tired of just hearing about things that she would never be able to understand.

She heard a light giggle coming from under the tree and she promptly stopped doing her little tricks with the flowers and snapped her head towards the sound, only to find a rather amused Grace staring back up at her.

“What?” Florence asked, frowning.

“You climbed this tree again, did you not?” Grace answered with another question. Florence didn’t even bother to reply; she just shrugged and sat up on the branch, straightening her back and her massive brownish wings.

Grace laughed to herself and flew up to where her sister was, sitting beside her. Grace’s wings were smaller and a little lighter than her sister’s, but were just as strong.

“You are aware that you have wings, right?” Grace teased. “You can just fly and land on whatever branch you want, Flossie. It’s a lot easier.”

Florence rolled her eyes. “But climbing trees is fun and landing on branches is _not._ ”

Grace nodded, defeated. “Alright. You’re complicated. But what are we going to do today?”

Grace’s voice was full of excitement and Florence felt a little sorry for not being able to respond with the same enthusiasm. She had been feeling particularly frustrated and a little discouraged in the past days. Maybe it had something to do with her father’s death – which had occurred only a couple of months ago. She sighed and brushed her fringe away from her eyes.

“You decide,” she said, finally.

Grace promptly jumped off the branch and opened her wings mid-air. Florence laughed at her sister’s small show. “We can fly above the river and play with the mermaids first, and after that we can see which one of us can reach the mountains faster?”

Florence bit her bottom lip to suppress a smile. “Only if we fly above the clouds after that.”

Grace giggled. “Sounds like a perfect plan!”

==

The sun reached the West side of the kingdom, where the King’s castle was located, later in the morning. So when the light came into her room, Isabella was already awake, sitting on the edge of her bed, dressed in only her nightdress.

Isabella Summers lived on the left-hand side of the river. She was born in the richest, more honorable and more important royal family of that kingdom. But she had never felt like it was something she should be proud of, or something that made her special or different, even though that’s how everyone treated her, regardless. But being born in a royal family didn’t bring anything good to her life. It had given her money and luxury, but had taken away from her what she needed the most: company and affection.

She let out a long, heavy sigh and stood up, walking to the large window of her room. She looked out at the landscape beyond the kingdom’s limits, she stared longingly at the land she would never put her feet to, at all the trees she would never touch, all the beautiful things she could only imagine, for her eyes would never be able to witness them. Isabella had always been told to stay away from the other side of the river, to never cross the limits and to respect her father’s orders. And although she had never been exactly good at following orders and accepting whatever people told her, she had managed to do as her father commanded for the last twenty-three years of her life.

She had, however, always had in mind that the only reason her parents acted like that was because, deep down, they were _afraid_. Afraid of the unknown, afraid of what they couldn’t _understand_. Afraid that in the end, the so called _“_ wild, inferior creatures _”_ could be stronger than every cannon, every sword and bomb, and also more powerful than all of their armies together. And fear had made them isolate themselves inside that castle, forcing her to grow up alone, surrounded by only her parents and servants, and occasionally spending time with other royal families when their castle was hosting a ball. Forcing her to spend the days in her room, reading, playing piano, and secretly making small wooden sculptures, pretending to be someone she didn’t feel she deserved to be.

A knock on the door disturbed her thoughts and three servants entered her room, already picking dresses and corsets, and murmuring things that Isabella couldn’t understand, for her mind was elsewhere, far away from that room.

She couldn’t wait for it to be nighttime. For her parents to be asleep in their chamber, for the guards to be distracted and sleepy, so that she could sneak out of her room and tiptoe to a secret door she had found when she was just a little girl – and _thank God_ she was still small enough to crawl through it – and run. She would sit by the river and watch the small magical creatures that lived there, the only ones that couldn’t be insolated to the other side. Just so she could watch them swim and fly a few centimeters above the water and greet her with their small hands. Those small creatures that weren’t exactly fish nor humans, and that could perfectly fit into Isa’s small hands. They were fragile, so beautiful, so fascinating. Their soft, sweet voice singing lovely melodies as they swam freely, doing a little dance just to amuse Isabella.

Those small creatures were the only contact with the other realm Isabella had always had. Those creatures were one of the few companies she had had growing up. And, somehow, she felt they were the promise that, someday, perhaps, she would be as free as they were. Or so she wished.


	2. The Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll always see this chapter as a rather dramatic one, but it’s necessary to the plot. Tan suggested the main situation in this chapter, so thank you bae ;) Also thank you Kate (kaytydidd on tumblr) for betaing <3 And thank you guys for reading, I hope you like it :)

Florence and Grace were lying on the grass, eating an apple each, while Grace played with a family of birds that sat on a branch of the nearest tree. She was making a few sticks dance around the birds and laughed when they couldn’t manage to catch them with their little beaks.

Florence, on the other hand, was looking up at the sky, absently eating her apple without even really tasting its sweet flavour. She thought about the term _freedom_ for a moment, as the feathers of her wings brushed her bare arms. It was so painfully ironic how she could fly to literally _anywhere_ in the world, and yet she knew that no matter how far she went, she would always end up exactly where she was; exiled in a distant realm. Although fairies were creatures that looked very similar to human beings, the few differences were still _there_ , and they were rather visible, and impossible to hide. Grace didn’t have a care in the world, though. But then again, she was only fourteen years old. Her opinion would probably change when she was older.

Florence sighed and turned onto her side, facing her sister, who was now making the grass around her grow a few inches.

“Grace?” she called, drawing her sister’s attention to her. “Have you ever thought of what it might be like on the other side of the river?”

Grace made a face, digging a small hole in the ground to bury the seeds of the apple she had just eaten. “I believe things might be quite _normal_ ,” she commented, the last word coming out almost like a complaint. “I don’t give too much thought to the matter, though.”

Florence frowned. “What’s wrong with _normal_?” Her tone wasn’t accusatory, she was just curious.

Grace shrugged, covering the small hole with dirt and grass again. “I just think it might be _boring_.”

Florence laughed lightly. She liked the way her sister saw things. “You’re probably right,” she agreed, sitting up. “Want to fly to the mountains, now?”

Grace shook her head. “Or you could sing something to me? You didn’t sing today, yet.”

A genuine smile spread across Florence’s lips, lighting up her eyes. Her parents would continuously tell her to shut up, for she loved singing so much that once she started she couldn’t stop. And although she had a beautiful voice, she was known to sing very loudly, which was not always well-accepted by her parents, or creatures that lived in the forest.

But then there was Grace: always her biggest supporter. Unlike her parents, Grace was the one to ask her to _never_ stop.  She enjoyed dancing and flying while her sister sang. She would always say to Florence: _“Don’t be silent for too long, Flo. Someone could be falling in love with your voice.”_ Florence didn’t believe that someone would, in fact, fall in love with her _voice_ , but she was continuously singing anyway because she just couldn’t hold her tongue.

She was in the middle of a song – one she had composed herself – when a loud noise interrupted her. She snapped her head towards the sound and felt small, cold hands gripping her own.

“What was that?” Grace urged.

The sound was getting closer and closer, which could only mean that something was approaching the limits of the forest – the limits nobody should cross. Florence gripped her sister’s hand tighter and opened her wings.

“We’re going to find out.”

==

By the time Florence and Grace approached the limits of the forest, the sound of an army getting closer was explicit and tormenting. The two girls had never seen the King’s army before, and just the sight and sound of thousands of horses and knights were enough to make their heart ache. Grace’s small hands were tightly wrapped around her sister’s as Florence resolutely flew towards the front of the forest.

She stopped abruptly as she saw her mother standing on a high rock that sat just a few inches away from the first trees of the forest. She smiled confidently and dragged her sister down with her as they both landed just beside their mother, who was the current queen of the Moors.

The Queen, Evelyn, looked towards her older daughter with wide eyes and a terrified expression on her face. “What are you doing here? And why did you bring your sister with you?”

Florence cleared her throat. “We heard noises; _loud_ noises. And I wanted to know what was wrong, Mother.”

Evelyn shook her head. She found it really surprising that Florence’s curiosity hadn’t put her into trouble yet. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous.” They could feel the ground trembling now under the weight of a thousand men and their horses. Evelyn turned her head towards the sound and then back to her daughter – Florence could see something foreign flicker in her mother’s eyes, which she concluded could be _fear_ or _despair_.

“You take your sister and fly away from here. Go home, both of you. Lock the doors and wait for me there.”

“But Mother—,” Florence tried to protest, but Evelyn cut in.

“It’s an order! Just _go_!”

Florence frowned and then exchanged looks with her sister. Grace’s eyes were almost as terrified as Evelyn’s and Florence suddenly realised that the jolt of excitement she was feeling for finally seeing a human closely wasn’t supposed to be felt on that occasion. That didn’t mean a conversation: it meant _confrontation_.

She nodded to her mother and gripped her sister’s wrist firmly in her hand. “Be safe,” she said to her mother before taking off with her sister in tow. She tried to block out the noises and shake away the dreadful images that formed in her head and flashed behind her eyelids as she flew back home like her mother had ordered.

==

The sun had already set by the time Evelyn had landed in the meadow. Grace, who had been sitting on their porch for a couple hours with her sister, jumped up on her feet as they saw their mother approaching them. Florence, on the other hand, just smiled with relief and relaxed her tense muscles, releasing a breath she didn’t even know she had been holding.

“Mum, are you hurt?” asked Grace, raising her small hand to touch her mother’s collarbone. There was a reddish mark on her skin, like she had been burned. Florence had seen it too; her green eyes were fixed on that very spot.

Evelyn smiled kindly. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” She glanced over at Florence, who looked down at her feet, and sighed. “Why don’t we just go inside and have dinner? You must be hungry.”

Florence stood up, but instead of turning towards the door, she took a few steps forward. “I’d like to stay here for a few more minutes, please.”

Evelyn saw it then: a shadow covering Florence’s eyes like a dark veil had fallen over them, dimming their light. She knew what that meant. She knew her daughter too well to know how much the events of that afternoon had affected her. She laid her hands on both of Grace’s shoulders. “Could you please wait for us inside, honey? I’d like to speak to your sister.”

Grace nodded and obediently walked to their house, closing the door behind her. Florence sighed loudly, folding her arms and sitting down on the ground. Evelyn tilted her head to one side, observing Florence for a moment.

It had always been hard to deal with her. Not because she was rebellious or angry or had the urge to make a scene whenever she was given a chance. But for the opposite reason: Florence owned a heart that was too kind, too pure, and it blinded her a majority of the time. It was hard for her to understand the dark, cruel side of the world, to understand ambition and hatred. She would always see the good in people, and when it was not there, she _created_ it.

Evelyn knew she had spent all of her 17 years idolising everything that existed on the other side of the river, mostly because it was a mystery to her, but also because she couldn’t _understand_ why that treaty and its rules even existed. Besides the wings and the magic, she didn’t _comprehend_ what else made her so different from those who lived in the King’s land.

She had heard stories growing up about how humans had treated the Moors back in a time where they occupied the same space. But then again, they were only just stories – words carried by the winds, without any validation; nothing tangible that she could see and touch. Curiosity and desire for the unknown had slowly planted that hopeful seed in her heart and made her close her eyes to reality and live in a world that only existed in her head.

The incident of that afternoon, however, had opened a crack in those walls of dreaming and Florence could finally see the first flashes of the reality that surrounded her. And, Evelyn knew, the crack in her heart was just as deep and wide.

She went to sit beside her daughter, gingerly wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Florence’s eyes were fixed on the grass and Evelyn could see her chin quiver, once, twice. “What happened there?” she asked, in a low, worried voice.

Evelyn pulled her in and planted a light kiss on the top of her head. “The King wanted wealth, darling. He knows about the treasures this land holds. He wanted to break in and steal from us. That’s what they’ve always wanted.”

Florence pulled away, shaking her head. “They can’t do it, though. They _must not_ do it. There’s a treaty that forbids them to cross the river!”

Evelyn nodded, gently rubbing her daughter’s back. “They’re _supposed_ to respect the treaty and not cross the river, you’re right. But they claim that now that…” she trailed off, searching for the right words. “Now that your father passed away, the treaty no longer has relevance.”

Florence choked on nothing, turning to her mother. “This is _absurd_!” she stormed, her cheeks turning red as tears of anger and disappointment filled her eyes. “The _whole thing_ is absurd, actually. The treaty; we having to exile ourselves here; their thirst for more and more wealth… everything is just ridiculous! Why can’t we all live in peace? I don’t understand it!” She drew her knees up to her chest and pressed her hands to her face to hide her tears from her mother – in vain of course.

“I’m sorry, Florence,” Evelyn started, her voice calm and comforting. “I’m sorry things have to be like this. I know how frustrating it can be sometimes, but you’ll grow used to it—”

“Will I?” she nearly snapped. Arguing with her mother was something that hardly ever happened. But she was too angry and too frustrated to stop herself now. “Because I don’t think I’ll ever get used to any of this. I don’t have anyone to talk to besides you and Grace. How will I meet people? Fall in love? Maybe have a family like you and Daddy did? How am I going to live a normal life when I’m _not_ normal?!”

“Now you listen to me, young lady,” Evelyn said, raising her voice. “I know how you feel; I’ve felt the same my whole life, but I can’t do anything to change it. Everything I do is to keep you and your sister safe, and the Moors get helped in the process. Don’t you _ever_ say something like this again.”

Florence lowered her eyes and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just—I just wish things could be different… _better_ for me and Grace. For everyone, actually.”

Evelyn got closer, slipping a finger under Florence’s chin, forcing her to look up at her. “I know. You’re a dreamer, just like your father. But, honey,” she took Florence’s hands in hers, “there’s an evil in this world, hatred and betrayal, and I cannot keep you from it.” Florence looked into her mother’s eyes as she continued, “One day you’ll be on your own and make your own decisions and mistakes, and then you’ll understand things that I cannot explain to you now. But until then, you’ll follow my orders, and I’ll protect you. Am I clear?”

Florence nodded, fighting back more tears. “Yes.” Her voice was barely audible.

“Good.” Evelyn laughed lightly and kissed Florence’s cheek tenderly. “Now let’s go inside and have dinner, shall we?”

“Could I… have a moment alone, please? I guess I need some time to… think and process all this.”

Evelyn decided not to protest. “Alright. Take your time. We’ll be here waiting for you.” She kissed Florence’s forehead. “Be safe.”

“I will.”

And with that she took off and flew towards the mountains – the only silent place in the whole forest where she could have a moment of clarity.

==

Florence had found comfort and silence in a cave in the mountains – a place she used to hide in when she wanted to be alone. Not even Grace knew about this place; it was Florence’s haven. She had laid down on the ground – which could have been a bad experience if her wings hadn’t kept her warm and comfortable –, staring up at the moon and had tried to put her thoughts in order. Had tried to let her mother’s words sink in and fix themselves into her skull. Had tried to calm her stupid, naïve heart and convince herself that she _should_ – she _ought_ to – get used to the life she was fated to live.

Nonetheless, a small and quiet, yet reluctant, part of her was still whispering to her the extreme opposite: that she ought to keep trying. That perhaps one day, even if distant and uncertain, she would experience freedom at its fullest. Perhaps one day she would be able to live the life she had always dreamed of.

At some point during her inner monologue, she had fallen asleep, forgetting that she had a house – a _family_ – to go back go. She had given in to tiredness and let the moonlight guide her into a dreamless sleep. It was very unusual of her: sleeping alone, especially out of her house. Her sleep was always tormented and disturbed and even the littlest of noises would wake her up. Nightmares and night terrors were as frequent as hallucinations, and she would normally only fall asleep with her sister beside her, most likely holding her hand. However tonight, she had managed to sleep on her own.

It was half past three in the morning when a boom startled her, violently pulling her back to the waking world. She sat up on the ground, taking in the information that she had fallen asleep in that cave and that she was alone. The cold wind bit her skin and she shivered, wrapping her wings around her own body to keep herself warm. Her wide, scared green eyes scanned the forest outside as her mind tried to understand what could have possibly caused that loud, frightening noise.

Then she heard it again. It was the same sound but muffled this time. She turned her head towards the noise and then froze. She could see smoke. A dark grey smoke rising from the ground. And the smoke was coming from the _meadow_.

Her heart stopped for a second. She could feel the blood freeze in her veins, her body becoming cold. She couldn’t breathe or move; her body wasn’t responding. It felt as though she had died just for a brief second, and her lifeless, motionless eyes had froze in that position, staring at that scene. But a second later she was standing on her feet, forcing her wings to open and work, to move and take her away, away from that cave and back to her family.

She flew as fast as she could. The wind biting her, almost cutting her skin, but it didn’t matter. She just wanted to see them, her mum and sister, she wanted to wrap her arms around them and kiss them and tell them that she loved them and would never, _ever_ , act the way she had acted again. She wanted – needed – to see them, to be sure they were fine.

But all her faith and hope drained out of her body as soon as she reached the meadow and her eyes fell on the scene below her. There were a few guards, about thirty of them, shooting iron balls at her house, which had been set on fire. The fire was paralyzing and the smoke suffocating. She knew her mum and sister wouldn’t be able to leave the house, not when they were shooting them with iron balls – _iron_ of all materials. Iron burned fairies, and if used in excess, it could be fatal.

Florence’s breathing was short and ragged, her heart was pounding too fast and her head was spinning. She knew she was on the verge of a panic attack but she could _not_ give in to her emotions right now. If she wanted to save her family she needed to be rational and calm and think coherently. She forced herself to stick to that plan and panic later.

“STOP!” she screamed, drawing their attention to herself. “Stop it right now!”

Half of them turned to her, their cannons aiming at her. She took a deep breath, her eyes searching for something that could be helpful in that moment. She wasn’t as strong as her mother, she couldn’t just ask other creatures to rise and fight with her. Suddenly she saw it: a small crow that was flying right above the guards’ heads. It would have to do.

“Into a wolf!” she shouted, and with a quick movement of her hands, the small crow turned into a large black wolf. “Attack them! Help me!”

The wolf sustained her look for a split second before opening its huge mouth and letting out a loud, guttural howl, scaring the guards. Every single one of them turned their attention to the animal, leaving Florence alone. She gasped, focusing on doing magic.

Moving her hands, she made a massive cloud appear above her house, and a second later rain started pouring down from it. She could hear the wolf fighting, men screaming, but all the sounds were distant. There was a buzz in her ears that she couldn’t get rid of. She turned her attention to the guards again. She decided to fight fire with fire. Focusing on the small cannons placed in front of her house, she made them turn towards the guards and fired them. The relatively small iron balls wouldn’t hurt them as much as they had certainly hurt her mother and sister, but at least would scare them away.

With that resolved, she landed in front of her house. The rain had put the fire out, but the house looked like it was about to crumble to the ground. Florence’s eyes filled with tears. Her father had built that for them when her mother was pregnant with her. And now it was _destroyed_. But that wasn’t what was worrying her the most – if the house was in that state, _how_ was she going to find her mum and sister?

She turned the doorknob and pushed the door open only a few inches before the burned wooden door broke in the middle and hit the ground with a dull thud, startling Florence. She jumped back, clutching her chest.

Everything inside the house was dark and smelled of smoke. Florence blinked a few times, trying to adjust her eyes to the dim light, trying to make out the outline of the furniture, and most importantly, trying to find her family before the old house succumbed and crashed down.

“Flo?” called a small, weak voice from the corner of the room.

Florence turned her head to the sound and found a small body lying down on the floor. She let out a strangled sob as she ran towards her sister.

“Grace? Gracie, are you alright? Are you hurt? Oh God, please tell me you’re fine.” She gingerly touched her sister’s face, her eyes running over her body, searching for any wounds.

“I’m fin—I’m fine, Flo,” she stammered.

“Where’s Mum?” Florence urged, her voice breaking.

Grace moved her head slightly to her left. “Something hit her when she was trying to protect me, and threw her in that direction. I don’t think—I don’t think she’s fine.”

Florence felt as though a dagger had just cut through her chest. “Stay here. I’ll look for her.”

There was no need to look for her, though. Her body was right there, on the left corner of the room, under a few large pieces of wood. A quick glance at the wall beside her explained to Florence that the cupboard that used to be there had probably been hit by her mother’s body and fallen right onto her. She knelt down beside her mother’s body, her shaky hands feeling blindly for her mother’s.

 “Mum?” she called faintly. “Mum, can you hear me? Mum?!”

Evelyn coughed lightly, opening her eyes slowly. Her lips parted and she answered in a hardly audible voice, “Florence? Thank God you’re unscathed. Where’s—” another cough, “Where’s Grace?”

“She’s fine,” Florence managed to say between sobs. “I’ll take you out of here, Mum. I will—I will—,” she mumbled, her hands already removing the rubbles off her mum’s body. When she removed a large one that was covering her mother’s chest, she gasped.

No. It couldn’t be.

_No. Please God, no._

“Mum, you’re... you’re bleeding. We need to take you out of here _right now_!” she cried out, her own chest aching as if she was the one bleeding out. That goddamn dagger was mercilessly sinking deeper into her.

Evelyn held her hand. “Darling, listen to me,” she pleaded.

“No. I’ll cure you. I can fix things, remember?” She hopelessly placed her hand on her mother’s chest, covering the wound. A faint blue light encircled her hands, but the wound remained there. Florence was sobbing loudly now, forcing her mind to work, to focus on curing her mother, forcing her bloody magic to fucking _do something_.

Evelyn’s tender eyes fell on her desperate face. “Honey, there are certain wounds that magic can’t cure. It can’t make miracles.”

Florence shook her head and opened her mouth to protest, but only a painful, long sob escaped her throat. Evelyn took her cold, shaky hands in both of her own.

“Florence, I want you to listen to me. Look at me, sweetheart.” Florence did as she was asked, her sight blurred by the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. “I trust you to take care of your sister, now. Of her and of yourself.” She took a deep breath, her chest aching, burning, bleeding. Florence was quiet and still, her eyes focused on her mother’s pale face. “Take Grace and go away from this meadow. Find another place to hide; here isn’t safe anymore. Build walls around the forest, thick, high ones to prevent people from entering the forest again. Do you understand?”

Florence nodded vaguely, her eyes distant and vacant. She couldn’t believe this was happening. This could not be happening. She had lost her father only a couple of months ago. She could not lose her mother too. She and Grace were everything she had; _everything_. Her tears came back harder, burning her skin, hitting the ground near her knees.

Evelyn gasped, her mouth refusing to move and pronounce the words. She forced them out, squeezing her daughter’s hand faintly. “Now look: you’re pure of heart, darling. Don’t let anyone darken your heart. Understood?”

 _They already did it the moment they attacked my family_ , Florence thought, but didn’t have the strength to utter the words.

A hand touched Florence’s arm and she heard a muffled sob. Grace had crawled towards them and was now resting her head on her mother’s chest. Florence clenched her fists as that dagger hit the one nerve it shouldn’t have hit.

“You two take care of each other,” Evelyn murmured, her lightless eyes staring into mid-air, her hands letting go of Florence’s. “I love you. Both of you.”

She then closed her eyes and Florence was dragged to somewhere cold and dark and hollow where she couldn’t neither see nor feel anything.


	3. The Curse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first “phase” of the story ends in this chapter, meaning the story won’t focus only on Florence anymore… Oh, and say hello to a few new characters ;) Thanks Kate for betaing, and thank you everyone for reading. I hope you like it :)

It was already late in the morning when the sun illuminated the inside of the cave where Florence and Grace had been hiding since the day before, after the incident in the meadow. It was the same cave Florence had occupied the night their house had been attacked – her haven. Now, though, that place didn’t bring peace to her heart anymore; it rather brought back the scene of the meadow on fire, of the guards attacking her house, of her mother dying before her eyes.

Everything had happened so fast that her brain was only now starting to assimilate what all of that meant. She was only now starting to take in all the damage it had caused. And yet it seemed like a horrible dream – just another of her nightmares or night terrors, and she had prayed all night long for the light of the day to bring back everything she had lost. But the thing about reality is that it’s still there the next morning.

Florence and Grace had buried their mother’s body in the meadow – they knew she wouldn’t have wanted to be buried anywhere else. After that, Florence had felt like all her strength had been drained out of her body, and she had felt so exhausted she had only had enough energy to fly to the mountains with her sister and collapse on the hard ground, not even bothering to wrap her wings around herself this time.

She had spent the whole night crying silently, her body shaking with sobs. Grace had fallen asleep quite fast, too tired and hurt to keep her eyes open. Her small wings were hurt; they had been cut and were bleeding badly. Grace couldn’t even move them. Florence had had to carry her in her arms to the mountains – and  _thank God_  she was small and not so heavy. She would be fine soon, though. She was young and healthy; she would heal – at least physically.

Florence on the other hand could almost  _see_ an open wound on her chest. The pain was still so vivid it was making it hard for her to breathe. And every time she cried, with every tear that rolled down her cheeks, she could feel that wound growing deeper and larger. Because every tear showed defeat and weakness; every tear proved that the King had achieved what he wanted. And she knew he would attack the forest again; and she knew that this time she wouldn’t be strong enough to fight him when he did.

Now she was finally starting to understand what her mother had told her. She was finally starting to understand hatred and betrayal. And the worst part was that she was not able to cease the intense, burning hate that was growing inside herself.

==

The day passed slowly; the hours were dragged by. It was the end of October and the weather was getting considerably colder. The temperature had dropped drastically and Florence and Grace had to snuggle up to each other for warmth. Added to that, the cave was in the mountains, and the wind was wild and ruthless.

Florence and Grace had to leave their shelter late in the evening to look for food and water, all the while being watched by the same crow that had helped her to fight the guards the day before, and that had been following her and her sister ever since. They picked a few fruits from the trees and collected water from the lake, going back to the cave just a few minutes later. Strangely, Florence didn’t open her mouth to say a single word the whole day. Her throat was dry and there was a sour taste in her mouth that was making her sick. She took a few bites of an apple and drank a few gulps of water and curled her body into a ball, facing her sister, who was avidly eating her apple.

She could see the Royal Castle from the cave. When she was younger, Florence would look longingly at it from afar and imagine what it looked like from the inside, and what the people that lived there looked like – beautiful, elegant, fancy, surrounded by luxury she would guess. But tonight, she could feel her stomach churn every time she laid her eyes on the castle. Her teeth gritted and her fists clenched.

The castle would normally look lifeless at this hour of the night, but tonight Florence could see the faint light of candlesticks in every room, and if she concentrated hard enough, she could even hear the distant, muffled sound of music. She frowned, letting out a noise that was half a groan and half a snort.

Grace looked at the castle and then back at her sister and nodded briskly to herself. Her eyes were lightless, vacant. “It’s  _that_ day of the year again,” she said softly, her naturally red lips forming a pout. “The princess’  _birthday_.”

Her words clicked something inside of Florence and her eyes shone with something Grace couldn’t quite decipher. She sat up abruptly, her eyes fixed on an invisible spot between the meadow and the castle. “They’re hosting a ball?” she said, her voice coated in repugnance, her face twisting into a grimace. “They’re  _celebrating_ the princess’s birthday one day after they _murdered_  our mother?”

She felt it again: the same nerve that that dagger had hit the day before was aching again. More than that: it was throbbing, pushing the blood into her cheeks and to her head. She could feel her blood rushing, boiling in her veins. She stood up, her hands flying up to her head, tangling in her hair.

“How dare they?! What they did is unacceptable,  _unforgivable_! I cannot bear it anymore. I’ve had enough!” She stormed, angrily marching towards the entrance of the cave.

Grace rushed after her, nervously grasping her wrist. “Florence, no!” she pleaded, forcing her sister to spin around and look at her. “You shall do nothing. You shall stay here with me and protect yourself.”

Florence shook her head, freeing her wrist from her sister’s grip. “Stay here while they celebrate our mother’s death? While they laugh at our mourning?” She sneered between gritted teeth. “No Grace. You cannot ask such a thing of me.”

“What are you going to do, anyway?” Grace urged, trying to put some sense into her sister’s head. “Vengeance isn’t the answer, Florence. You heard our mother.”

Florence squeezed her eyes shut, her face becoming blank, impassive. “I’ve listened to our mother my whole life and look where we are now.”

Grace swallowed hard; she had no argument against that statement.

Florence whistled once and the crow – which had been sitting outside of the cave this whole time – entered the cave and landed in front of Florence’s feet. “Into a man,” she ordered, and with a slight movement of her fingers the crow turned into a tall, surprisingly handsome man with dark-blonde hair, thankfully already fully clothed.

“Do you have a name, Crow?” Florence inquired.

The man stood up and wiped the dust off his clothes. “Look, I accepted the whole wolf thing, but now you turned me into a  _man_? This I can’t accept,” he complained.

Florence rolled her eyes. “Shut up or I’ll turn you into a beetle,” she hissed. Grace chuckled, taking a few steps back to give her sister and her new companion some privacy. “Tell me your name, if you have one,” Flo ordered again.

“They call me Rob.”

Florence raised an eyebrow. “It’s quite a stupid name for a crow,” she deadpanned.

“Is this why you turned me into a man?” Rob retorted.

“No. I just can’t speak  _crowish_ , so I thought it would be nice if we could understand each other,” Florence answered sharply. “Now you listen,  _Rob_ , I have to go somewhere to take care of personal matters, and I want you to look after my sister. Am I clear?”

Rob laughed without humour. “And  _why_  would I do it? As far as I know  _you_  owe  _me_ , not the other way around.”

Florence took a step closer, her eyes peering into Rob’s. “Well, considering that I can turn you into an insect and smash you with my foot, I think you should be more careful with your words,  _Bobby_.” She smiled deviously. “Now be a good boy and do as I commanded. I’ll be back soon.”

“Could you at least turn me into something less ridiculous?”

Florence smiled. “Into a wolf,” she said before opening her wings and flying away from the cave and towards the King’s castle.

==

It was the first time she was crossing the river. She had never attempted to do so, disrespecting the treaty. But now it was different. Different because they had disrespected the treaty first. And now she was here to try and understand why: why they thought they had the right to act that way.

The castle was even bigger now that she was so close, though its large, thick, high gates seemed considerably powerless when seen from far above. The guards looked as tiny as the little mermaids that lived in the river, and Florence thought that it would be oh so easy to just hit them with something and make them pass out. She shook her head, biting back a smile. Stopping right above their heads, but still up in the sky, she moved her fingers and whispered “Sleep.” All the guards fell on the ground and Florence nodded to herself, landing near their sleeping bodies and staring up at the castle.

She noticed a small, pink flag hanging outside of a window on the tenth floor and frowned. “What the…” she mumbled to herself, flying up and stopping right in front of said window.

Now that she was close, she could read ‘ _Happy 23 rd Birthday_’ on the flag, written in white paint. She laid her hand on the window ledge and pushed herself up just enough to glance into the room.

She couldn’t see much of what was inside for the room was really dark and the moon was hiding behind a massive cloud. But Florence’s eyes were used to dim lights and the darkness of the forest already, so she could make out the outline of the furniture. She could see a wardrobe, a dressing table, and a large bed that sat opposite the window, in the middle of the room. And lying in the bed, she could see a body curled up under the blanket. She couldn’t see her face, because the hem of the blanket was hiding it, but she could see the top of her head peeking out from under the covers.

Florence knew  _who_  she was spying on. And she knew she didn’t have a care in the world that it was that girl’s birthday. She had come here for a reason and she would accomplish it.

With a last look at the girl, Florence landed again and walked towards the front door of the castle. The next person she wanted to see was the King.

==

The ball was still happening even though the princess had already excused herself to her chamber. Florence found that really strange, but her mind didn’t have enough time to think about it because she was interrupted by the sight that welcomed her as she entered the main hall.

It was strange how she had spent her whole life wondering what it might look like in the inside of the castle, and how it felt to be in a royal ball, but now that she was here all she could feel was anxiety and self-consciousness. Her breathing was short and shallow and she could feel her pulse racing and a sharp pain begin in her head. She swallowed hard, tip-toeing towards the corners of the room, where the faint light of the candles didn’t reach.

Thankfully, everyone in that room was already too drunk and too tired to even pay attention to a stranger walking sideways with her back – her  _wings_ , to be more specific – rubbing the walls. She giggled to herself when she reached the top of the stairs, out of people’s line of sight, glancing back at them one last time before marching towards the throne room.

She didn’t know where it was located, though. She had to open a few doors, all the while searching for hidden guards in the corners, and trying not to get distracted by all the luxury she was laying her eyes on, until she came across a large, dark door that she figured may be important. She straightened her back and held her head up, using her magic instead of the doorknob to open the door.

Her suspicions were proven right. In a large, apparently rather uncomfortable throne, sat the King. The two smaller thrones beside him were empty and Florence figured it belonged to the Queen and Princess, respectively. There were two guards standing behind the thrones, who promptly pointed their swords to Florence.

If that affected her in any way, she didn’t show it.

She walked slowly towards the king, making sure to lock the heavy doors behind her – again using her magic. The King’s eyes were wide and his lips quivering slightly. The expression on his face was terrified, and even though she couldn’t see the guards’ face, for they were wearing helmets, she was sure they were just a reflection of the King’s.

She stopped a few steps away from his throne and sighed melodramatically. “I have to say, I’m quite disappointed for not receiving an invitation,” she stated, her voice soft but clear.

The King took a sharp intake of breath before replying, “You’re not welcome here,  _beast_.”

“Oh,” Florence sighed with feigned surprise and offence. She made a sad face, pouting and lowering her eyes to the floor for only a brief second before raising her head again and letting out a loud, sarcastic laugh. “Oh dear, what an… awkward situation,” she provoked. “You weren’t welcome to my land, either. But you invaded it anyway and didn’t seem to care much about it when you set fire to my house and  _murdered_  my family.”

The King tightened his grip around his knees – Florence could see his knuckles turning white. “I don’t care about you freaks with wings,” scoffed the King making the two guards laugh. “And this is not how you talk to  _your king_.”

An angry smile pulled at one corner of Florence’s mouth and she raised a hand in the air, curling her fingers as if she was strangling something invisible. Immediately, the King gasped, clutching his own throat in despair. “You are no King to me!” she shouted.

The guards marched towards her, then, their sharp swords shining in the dim light of the candles. Florence circled her free hand and shouted “Sleep!” and the two fell on the floor. Florence sighed. “Oh well, this is too easy. It isn’t even  _fun_.”

The King coughed. “What do you want?”

“I’m glad you asked,” she answered sassily, taking a few steps closer.  She stopped just a few inches away from him. “You invaded my forest, burned my house down and mercilessly murdered my family last night, and then you unrepentantly decided to host a ball in your castle the day after and laugh at my pain,” she said between gritted teeth, her green eyes peering into the King’s soul with such intensity it was somehow the main cause of the shortness of his breaths. “I think I should  _return_  the favour.”

The King’s eyes widened. “You’re going to kill me…?” Florence wasn’t sure if that was a question or a statement.

She let out a humourless laugh. “Kill you?” She shook her head. “No. I’m not a murderer like  _Your Majesty_ ,” she scoffed. “Also, you shall pay with the same pain you caused me.”

Her eyes wandered over to her right and fell on the last throne in line. She smiled. “And since it’s the princess’ birthday, I’m expected to give her a gift, I suppose.”

The King wiggled his body, trying to escape her iron grip but failed miserably. “You won’t get close to her! My guards will kill you first!”

“Oh dear, I don’t need to get close to her. I can do it from here.” She lifted her other hand and a smoky green light radiated from it. “I know where her room is. My magic will get there on its own.” She winked at the King. “Now you sit and watch.” She let go of his throat and he fell on the floor, weak and breathless.

Florence looked up at the ceiling, imagining that girl’s room, and opened her arms with her palms turned up. “The princess will have three more years of pure joy and glory and health. But…” she paused dramatically, pretending to think of what she should say next. Then she nodded briskly to herself, returning her attention to the curse she was casting. “On her 26th birthday she will fall into a sleep like death; a sleep from which she will never awaken.”

“No, please!” the King’s voice called weakly, his pleading eyes searching for Florence’s. “Please don’t. Don’t hurt my daughter. I beg you.”

Florence smiled wickedly. “I like you begging. Do it again.”

The King snorted and groaned but had no choice other than comply. He knelt in front of Florence, looked into her eyes and begged, “Please don’t hurt her. Please don’t do this. _Please_.”

Florence took a deep breath, looking away from him. “Alright. The princess  _can_  be woken from her death sleep.” A short pause. “But  _only_  by a true love’s kiss.”

The King let out a noise that was half a growl and half a whine and Florence knew they shared the same thought. For someone like the princess – and Florence herself – true love was a stupid, foolish believing; just a fantasy. She would marry someone for money and power, just like her mother had before her. Therefore, she would never awaken.

Before the King could protest again, Florence continued, “This curse will last to the end of time. No power on Earth can change it.”

With that, the smoky green light floated up and dug through the ceiling, disappearing from the throne room. But Florence could  _feel_  it moving slowly in the air towards the princess’ room. She could feel it making its way through the thick door of her room, hovering above her body like a massive cloud. She could feel it being inhaled by her, ruthlessly spreading through her body like a vicious weed, reaching every corner, every inch, sealing her terrible, unfortunate fate.

She could feel something in her chest, too. It wasn’t that dagger, this time. It was something more harmful, sharper and stronger. Something that was spreading through her body fast and relentlessly, running towards that one muscle in her chest that she should have kept unscathed. She could still hear and feel its beat, its effort to push the blood through her veins. But she knew it was all it was able to do now: keep her alive. Alive, yet barely living. But now at least she wouldn’t be the only one to live a miserable life.

She felt hands pulling at the hem of her dress and looked down at the King’s angry, crying face. “Now you listen,” she started. “You shall stay away from my realm, you shall never cross the river again. Because if you do, then the princess will pay with her life. And so will your wife. Am I clear?” The King nodded, hopelessly. “Great. And don’t worry, you’ll never hear of me again.”

Then Florence opened her wings and flew through the window, not even bothering to use the door this time. She somehow managed to keep her mind blank during her little travel from the castle to the forest. When she touched the ground, she did as her mother had commanded and built high, thick walls of thorns blocking the entrance to the forest – and also blocking her view of the castle and its surroundings.

With a sigh, she turned her back to all that – to her mother’s death, to the curse she had cast, to the stupid dream of wanting to live on the other side of the river, to all the stupid scenarios she had formed in her head ever since she was a child, to the person she had been until now. That was part of her past. In her future there was only a place for her sister and Rob – the only two people she still cared about. She could built another house for them and protect them like her mother had done until her last living breath. That was all that mattered.

She placed her hand on her chest, where now occupied a hollow plain instead of a heart and with a sad, broken smile took off and flew towards the cave where her sister was awaiting, leaving everything she once was behind her.


	4. The Voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s all say hello to Isa (finally)!! It’s now two years later, and Isabella is about to do something reckless, and meet someone... Thanks Kate for betaing, you’re a doll <33 And thank you everyone for reading! I hope you like it :)

 

Two Years Later

 

Every day was the same: Isabella would wake up, her maids would help her to bathe and get dressed, they would do her hair and make-up and then she would go down stairs and join her father and mother at the table for breakfast. After a glass of juice, two slices of bread and a few fruits, she would excuse herself, go to her room and read a book.

In the afternoon she would have lunch alone, sometimes in her room and sometimes at the unnecessarily long table, with only her maid standing beside her in case she needed anything. Then she would walk around the garden that surrounded the castle, never crossing the thick high gates, and enjoy a few minutes in the sun. She would even take a risk and talk to a few guards every now and then, just to pass the time. But they would never keep a conversation going for long; perhaps out of intelligence, perhaps out of fear – only God knows what her father might do to them if he ever caught them engaged in a conversation with his daughter.

In the evening, after a cup of tea and toast, she would sit in the throne room with her parents and pretend to do something useful, while her mind wandered far away from that castle, getting lost in the worlds she read about in books, trying to distract herself with her thoughts and fantasies. Either her father or mother would address her with one or two questions sometimes, about her day mostly, which she would generally answer with  _‘I had a pleasant, day. Thank you, Father.’_  That was more of a lie than a truth, but she had grown used to lying to them after twenty-five years of doing it. So much so that sometimes she would allow herself to believe in that lie, too, and force a smile to her lips and dare look her parents in the eye while answering. But  _only_  sometimes. Most days she would just answer that matter-of-factly, if not monotonously, and keep her eyes on the floor. Her parents didn’t seem to notice any subtle change in her, though – or maybe they just didn’t care enough to comment on it.

At night, she would join them at the table again and eat in silence, while the King and Queen discussed the matters of the day and the things they needed to get done by the end of the month. She would finish her dish, excuse herself, and go to her room again with her maid in tow. Sometimes she would ask her maid to prepare another bath, when she needed to relax, but normally she would just get changed and tuck herself into bed.

Every day was the same, no exceptions – unless they were hosting a ball, which normally happened once every four or five months. But that was another story.

But there was one thing she did almost every night that had become some sort of sacred routine: escaping to the river. Two or three nights a week, when the entire castle was asleep, even the guards, even though they should be watching the gates, she would sneak out of her room and tip-toe through the castle to that small secret door only she knew about. She would then crawl down the short tunnel the door opened to, only stopping when her hands touched the grass outside of the limits of the castle.

And then she would run, run until she reached the riverbank, without ever looking back. She would sit down on the grass, then, her legs crossed, and tap the surface of the water, calling for the little mermaids that used to live there. And there, watching those creatures, she would spend most of the night, only coming back when the sun had begun to rise in the East – she had to be home before her parents woke up.

Her eyes would look longingly to the other side of the river, too, as her mind tried to make up scenarios in which she met other creatures and explored the forest she knew existed far, far away from her line of sight. And the she would dream of that same land for the next few days until she could escape the castle again – escape her  _life_ , really.

 _That_ was a routine that, she knew, she would never get tired of.

==

Isabella had been lying down by the river for a while now, staring up at the sky. It was the beginning of spring and the sky was particularly beautiful tonight. There were no clouds; only the bright moon and the stars were visible. And in a moment of silliness, she thought that if she could fly up to the sky and touch it, it would be as soft as silk to the touch. She smiled to herself and closed her eyes, letting the soft breeze caress her skin.

She was almost drifting into sleep when she heard it: a soft, sweet female voice singing a dramatic melody. Even though Isabella couldn’t quite decipher the words the voice was pronouncing, it still sounded deep and powerful. The melody enveloped her and made her sit up on the grass, her eyes opening slowly, searching for the source of the sound.

Isabella had heard this voice before. She had heard it almost every night she had been to the river for the past two years. But she had never heard it so clear before; she could tell the person was closer to the river this time –  _really_  close.

Isa could hear the oscillations in the voice, the low and high notes, the soft lines and the loud ones – the creature was moving around this time; Isa could hear that, too. Every note was a poem and every poem was hitting Isa in the chest, making something bloom inside of her and spread through her body, taking hold of her.

Isabella was moving now, slowly walking forward towards the river, almost hypnotized by the song, by that voice. Her feet touched something cold and wet and then she stopped. Her eyes met her feet and also met water, cold water drowning her ankles and making her shiver slightly. Her mind divided in two and each part was craving for something different. One wanted to turn around and leave before it was too late, and the other wanted to tell the first to shut up and just cross the bloody river and get to the other side to see  _who_  – for the love of God – was singing that song with such a beautiful voice.

She looked around – the place was deserted. She turned back to the forest and took a deep breath. She had always wanted to do it, since the very first day she had escaped to the river and watched the mermaids. Her feet were already in the water, all she had to do was take a few steps forward and reach the other side. If she accomplished that, it would be the first time she would be doing something entirely for herself, and not to please others, or just to escape.

A jolt of excitement washed over her and she gasped, gripping the fabric of her nightdress and pulling it slightly up so it wouldn’t get wet. That first voice was telling her to stop, was telling her it could be dangerous, that the other creatures might not be as gentle as the ones that lived in the river. But thankfully, the frantic beats of her heart were sounding louder than that voice, muffling it, burying it somewhere deep inside her head.

In a moment of courage and boldness, or perhaps just irresponsibility and madness, she gulped down all her doubts and resolutely marched forward.

==

It was a strange sensation that she was feeling. Part of her felt like she had just been sucked into another dimension and part of her felt that she hadn’t even crossed that river at all. She couldn’t see anything ahead of her, apart from dark forms on the grass caused by the moonlight. She didn’t know what she had expected, really. It’s not like the other side could have been any different from the side she knew.

Except for…

She heard that sound again. Between words she could hear the sound of leaves being smashed and pushed aside. The sound was muffled but audible. The voice was also clearer now, louder. Isabella swallowed hard and tried to calm herself down, focusing on the words. She could understand them now.

 _I was looking for a breath of life_  
A little touch of heavenly light  
But all the choirs in my head sang ‘no’

She kept walking, following the sound of her voice, looking, searching, not realising she was getting closer and closer to the wall of thorns, not even being able to see the wall in front of her at all.

 _To get a dream of life again_  
A little vision of the start and the end  
But all the choirs in my head sang ‘no’

_But I needed one more touch  
Another tas—_

The voice died in the air and Isabella stopped, as if she had just woken up from a dream and realised she had been sleepwalking. And then she saw it: a shadow moving among the trees, hidden in the safety of the forest but watching Isabella from afar. Isa kept her eyes fixed on the shadow and waited for it to say something for a solid ten seconds, taking a deep breath as the creature stayed silent.

Isa cleared her throat. “Please don’t stop singing,” she asked, softly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” There was no response. Isa continued, “There’s no need to be afraid. I won’t hurt—”

“I’m not afraid.”

The sound surprised Isabella. It was soft and calm yet firm and confident. Like someone was reciting a poem about war or death and forcing their words to sound clear even though the lines were shocking them.

Isa smiled thinly. “Then come out. Let me see you.”

It took one second too long for the other girl to answer, “And  _why_  would you want to see me?”

Isabella shrugged, trying to brush off the realisation that she was speaking to a talking shadow in an unfamiliar territory. “I’d like to see the person who owns such a beautiful voice.” A short pause. “Please?”

Florence studied the girl for a moment. She concluded she had seen her before. After her mother’s death, Florence had developed the habit of going to the forest at night, sitting on the branch of a tree and singing at the top of her lungs, as if to exorcise the pain that plagued her. And sometimes she would get a glimpse of a small girl sitting by the river, usually playing with the mermaids, or just lying down and probably relaxing or thinking about stuff. That intrigued her at first, for she had never seen any human  _playing_  with magical creatures before. But then again, there were plenty of things she had not seen yet. So after a while she had decided to let it go and not give too much importance to the matter.

However, for some unknown reason, she had decided to cross the wall of thorns tonight, right in the middle of a song. And now, that girl was standing  _right there_ , in front of her. More than that: she had had the guts to cross the river and  _talk_ to her. And those two little facts were enough to light up the flame of curiosity inside Florence again. And, in the end, she did  _not_  have anything to fear.

Florence took a few steps forward, away from the shadows and closer to the girl. She stopped under the path of the moonlight and Isa froze, her eyes widening.

Isa had to admit to herself that she kind of expected this creature to look a little weird to her eyes, just like the mermaids did at first sight. She imagined there could be something oddly placed on her body, like the tail and gills on the mermaids, or something that would keep her staring and wondering – she was inwardly ready to be surprised and maybe a little shocked. But she was definitely _not_  ready to be so fascinated by such a beautiful creature – and one that didn’t look so different from herself.

Her tall, slender figure was perfectly poised in front of Isabella. Her marble white skin was glowing discreetly in the moonlight. Her eyes were an intense shade of green that reminded Isa of pictures of the ocean that she had seen in books. Her long reddish hair was falling down her shoulders in soft waves, her too-long fringe brushing her eyelids, and her lips were naturally painted red. She was wearing a long silver dress with black prints on it, as if someone had splashed paint all over it, and Isabella could see that she was barefoot. Peeking behind her shoulders, Isa could see a pair of brownish wings with a few shades of soft red in it. And she was sure she could find a thousand other small details on her if she kept staring.

She stood there, in complete awe, until Florence started to feel uncomfortable at being stared at like that and decided to talk.

“So now that you saw me, I guess you’re ready to leave.” She didn’t sound rude; she sounded more confused than anything.

“Oh, I remember it now!” Isa nearly yelled with excitement. “I know what you are,” she announced proudly.

Florence raised an eyebrow. “Oh yes?”

Isabella nodded. “You’re a fairy!” She linked her hands together before her chest.

Florence’s expression remained impassive. “That’s very observant of you.”

Isabella frowned, straightening her shoulders. “I _read_ , okay? And that _is_  very impressive. Had it been anyone else, they wouldn’t have guessed.”

“You read,” Florence pondered, bringing a finger to her lips. “Impressive, indeed.”

Isa could hear the sarcasm, so she went on: “Do you read, too?”

Florence nodded. Her mind wandered back to when she was younger. The books her parents had collected along the years would flood her chest with excitement and love and fill her mind with thousands of different scenarios. Those stories would keep her dreaming, hoping. It was a shame that almost all of those books had been burned in the fire.

“It’s been a while since I last read a book, though,” she reflected.

“Well, there are plenty of books where I come from.”

Florence’s eyes focused on hers. “Which reminds me that you shouldn’t be here,  _Intruder_. Who allowed you to cross the river?”

Isa furrowed her brow. “And who are you? The  _queen_  of this land?” she scoffed.

“Actually, I  _am._ ” Florence answered with a cynic smile.

“Oh,” Isabella blinked a few times, her shoulders dropping slightly. She didn’t even _know_  there was such a thing as a queen on the other side of the river. And that girl looked far too _young_  to be Queen. “I’m sorry, then,  _Your Majesty.”_ Florence nearly cringed at the use of the pronoun. “Would you allow me to stay here for a little while?”

Florence pretended to think for a moment before answering, “No, dear. You shall leave now.”

Florence turned her back to Isabella and the blonde nearly reached out to get a hold of her wrist, but she remembered who and  _where_  she was and stopped herself in time. She bit her bottom lip feeling genuinely frustrated. It had taken her so long to finally have the courage to do what she had done tonight. She wouldn’t – she just could  _not_  – let that fairy ruin everything so easily.

“What if I bring you books?” she proclaimed aloud.

Florence stopped, looking back at Isa over her shoulder. “What did you say?”

Isa bit back a smile. “What if I come here tomorrow night and bring you a book? You said it’s been a while since the last time you read something, and I have, like, this library at home. I could bring a few books for you.”

Florence observed the small woman for a moment. She was dressed in a light, white dress and wore a cream cap over it. She was wearing what seemed to be sandals and her silver blonde hair flowed down her shoulders in soft curls. Her big eyes were a different shade of blue and in the dim light of the moon they were glowing grey. Her full lips were stretched into a hopeful smile. Honestly, she looked like a peasant or something, but at the same time there was something in her that screamed  _‘wealth’_. And yet here she was, almost begging Florence to let her come back and bring her books. Florence had never felt so confused and intrigued in her entire life.

“And why would you want to bring me books?” Florence inquired.

“I’m just being nice. You should try it sometime.”

There it was, what was intriguing Florence the most: that girl didn’t seem affected by the way she looked or by the fact that she wasn’t human. She was just talking to her as if Florence was  _exactly_  like her. No rude statements or unnecessary comments about her wings or way of living; just a casual, normal conversation between two girls who had just met each other. For the first time in forever, Florence felt  _included_.

“So?” Isabella insisted. “What do you have to say?”

She felt quite thankful, really, for that small conversation. Still, something inside of her reminded her of all the things that had caused her to build that wall of thorns and a voice told her that she shouldn’t crash her walls down just because that girl had had the courage – or will – to talk to her.

Florence sighed, pretending indifference, her long fingers running through her hair. “My answer remains the same: you shall leave now.”

“Why not? What are you afraid of?”

Florence nearly snorted. “I already told you I’m not afraid. I just hold no interest in talking to…  _humans_.” That was a lie, but the girl didn’t have to know that.

Isabella opened her mouth to retort but she looked over Florence’s shoulders and her eyes fell on the faint orange-ish light of the sun that was just starting to rise. “I have to go now but I’ll be back at night. Will you be around?” Florence didn’t say anything. “I believe you will. So I’ll see you at night,” she said, turning on her heels. “I’m Isabella, by the way. And I’m pleased to meet you.”

 _Isabella, Isabella._  The name echoed in Florence’s head as she watched that strange girl run back to her house. She waited until she couldn’t see strands of silver blonde hair blowing in the wind, waited until the name stopped repeating itself in her head, waited until she was able to push that conversation to the back of her head and bury it there. When she felt normal again, she turned around and moved the wall of thorns just enough for her to cross it, suddenly feeling too tired to fly – or maybe she just didn’t want to get home too soon and have Grace ask her what had happened, because she was sure it was still plastered on her face that something out of the ordinary had happened that night.

She also wished she could have ceased the curiosity and confusion that were growing inside her mixed with excitement, but this one task she couldn’t accomplish. The truth was: it had been the first time Florence had had the opportunity to talk to someone other than her family and a crow turned into a man. A small, quiet part of her couldn’t wait to do it again. Although, a louder, stronger one yelled that she should not do it. And she wasn’t sure which voice would win that battle.


	5. The Condition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, guys! :) Here's another chapter and another one will follow in a few days for sure. The titles of the books mentioned in this chapter were completely made up, so any similarity to any real book it's just a coincidence, really. Well, thank you Kate for betaing, you truly are an angel <3 and thank you everyone for reading, I love you all <3 Xxx

The day seemed to pass excessively  _slowly_. Isabella tried to keep her mind occupied with reading and playing piano, but her thoughts would frequently and stubbornly wander to the events of the night before. She still couldn’t believe she had had the courage to do what she had done, and every time the vivid images flashed behind her eyelids, she felt a little prouder of herself.

When the time to sit on the thrones with her parents came, Isabella forced the smile that had been plastered on her face all day to disappear, bringing back that impassible mask she would normally wear near them. They didn’t seem to notice anything different in her, even though she hadn’t been able to sit still for the first time in, probably, her entire life.

She waited impatiently for her maid to tuck her into bed and excuse herself from her room. Waited until she couldn’t hear a single noise in the castle, and then slipped out of the bed, grabbing one of her favourite books and, shoving it under her nightdress, sneaked out of her room and walked through the castle, trying to make as little noise as possible. She went down two staircases and reached the main hall. Turned her left and walked silently down the corridor that led to another staircase. She went down again, turning right this time, near where the kitchen was located. She stopped, looked around, making sure no one was there, and tiptoed to the other side of the room. She pushed a cupboard out of the way and knelt down in front of her small secret door.

A few minutes later, she was free.

She didn’t even stop to think before sinking her feet into the cold water and marching towards the other side of the river this time. She stopped a few meters away from the wall of thorns, well hidden in the shadows, and looked around, looking for the fairy.

But she wasn’t there. Isabella walked around, looking up at the trees and behind the tree trunks, but the girl was nowhere to be found.

Isabella had expected something like that to happen, honestly. After the reaction the fairy had had the night before, she kind of expected her to not be there tonight. And yet, she couldn’t help but feel utterly disappointed. She had brought a great book, though, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to take it back home.

She left the book under the same tree the fairy had hidden behind the night before and, with a sigh, turned on her heels and ran back home with the hope that, perhaps, the fairy would eventually come back and find the book. Isabella  _would_  come back a few days later to check on her; that was for certain.

==

“What the…?” Florence reflected three days later when she finally decided to go back to the place where she had seen Isabella the other night.

Her eyes had easily found this small book with a brown cover that rested under a tree.  _Beyond the Clouds_ , said the cover. Florence frowned, making the book levitate in front of her eyes. She stretched out a hand and took it, promptly opening to the first page. A note fell from inside of it on the ground near her feet and she bent down to pick it up. Elegant, cursive letters said:  _This is one of my favourite books. Please give it – give_ me _– a chance._

Florence blinked twice, re-reading those few lines a couple of times, taking in its words – Isabella’s words. She couldn’t understand why that girl seemed so interested in talking to her and bringing her books, but she quite liked the dedication and the attention. She put the note in the last page of the book and sat down under the tree, opening the book over her knees. If the girl had brought that to her, the only thing she could do now was at least take the time to read it. She had nothing to lose, after all.

==

It felt like Isabella had reached the river a little sooner this time, and she figured that maybe she had imperceptibly run a little  _too_  fast. However, when she approached, she couldn’t see the fairy once again. But the book wasn’t where Isabella had left it five days ago. Excitement made her heart skip a beat and a smile spread across her lips.

“Hello? Are you here?” Isa called out, looking around for the girl.

A tall, slender figure jumped out of a tree nearby and landed in front of her, forcing her to take a few steps back, bringing a hand to her chest in surprise.

“Whoa! You could have made a noise or something to let me know you were coming,” Isabella exclaimed, laughing lightly. “I see you’ve read the book,” she went on. “What are your thoughts on it?”

Florence looked down at the cover again, running a hand flat over it. “I liked it quite a lot,” she confessed, then added in a lower voice, “I’d love to read another one, soon.”

Isabella inhaled noisily. “Does it mean we have a deal?”

Florence nearly cringed at the use of the word. “I don’t make deals with humans,” she groaned. “And it doesn’t mean anything. I just want another book to read. Bring me another one soon and we shall see what happens.”

Not the answer Isa wanted, but it was more than she had expected. She nodded, biting back a smile. “I’ll be back in two days.”

==

“Where’s the book you said you’d bring to me?” Florence asked the moment she spotted Isabella crossing the river, causing the blonde to jump back in surprise.

“I see you’re really good at collecting the debts, huh?” Isabella taunted. She reached under her nightdress and pulled out a small book with a blue cover. She looked at it for a brief moment and nodded to herself. “Here. It’s a short story, but the book is really good. It’s one of my favourites as well as the other one.”

Florence blinked twice, analysing the cover. With a quick movement of her finger, she made the book levitate away from Isa’s hands and stop before her eyes. “ _Secrets the Ocean Hides_ ,” she read the title aloud. She flipped a few pages, still not touching the book, and commented, “I like water and the ocean. It’s a good start, I suppose.”

Isabella had been watching her with a mix of admiration and amusement. “You’re a big exhibitionist, are you not?” she said, a mocking smile pulling at her lips.

“Excuse me?”

“The magic. You could have just grabbed the book with your hands instead of doing magic. Are you trying to impress me?” There was humour in her voice but Florence didn’t smile or laugh. She dropped the book onto the ground, her eyes fixed on Isabella’s face.

“And why would I want to impress you,  _Peasant_?”

Isabella nearly laughed at the use of the pronoun, but she pressed her lips together to prevent the air from slipping between them. It was funny that the creature had concluded she was a peasant only because of the way she was dressed. It occurred to Isabella, however, that that could also have been the only reason why she had been so gentle with her so far. Isa knew that the Moors didn’t exactly  _like_  the royalty. The King had been the one who had decided to exile them on the other side, not allowing them to cross the river ever again. Isa knew her father wasn’t exactly loved by those creatures – and neither were her mother and herself for that matter. She decided to leave it as it was, then.

“This is natural to me,” Florence went on.

“I was  _joking_ ,” Isa explained. “I, too, would do magic all the time, if I had been born… magical.”

Florence raised a hand in the air to silence her. “Enough of your rambling. I’d like to read now. You’re free to leave.”

Isabella wrinkled her nose. “Alright, but could I  _stay_?” Florence narrowed her eyes at her. “I promise I won’t interrupt you. I’ll just sit right there and wait for your reaction.”

Florence filled her lungs entirely and released all the air again before answering, “Whatever. Just don’t annoy me.”

==

They sat opposite each other. Florence was leaning back against the trunk of an ancient tree with the book in hand, her eyes flying over the pages, devouring the words. Isabella was casually lying down on the grass, propped up on her elbows with her eyes fixed on the woman in front of her.

She was only just a  _girl_ , Isabella noticed. Probably even younger than Isa herself. Her face was fresh and beautiful, her skin perfectly smooth.  _But then again, just_ how _old did a fairy have to be to look old?_  Isa didn’t know.

Isabella liked to stare at her, though. There was something strangely soothing in it. Maybe it was just admiration that made a smile appear on her face whenever her eyes fell on the redhead’s, or maybe even a bit of self-contentment for being so close to a fairy like that. But part of her knew that  _that_  fairy, specifically, also had something to do with it. Because that fairy was the same one who had enchanted her with that voice and slowly given her courage to overcome her fears and cross the river. And there was something so mysterious, oddly fascinating about her that Isa still hadn’t been able to decipher.

And she wanted to. She just wanted to talk to her for hours until she knew every single detail about that creature. She had a feeling that even the most ordinary, silly facts of her life would sound extraordinary to her; she who had only just seen and heard what the limits of her castle had allowed her to. That girl was a living, breathing book and Isa couldn’t wait to flip through all the pages to know the story it had to tell.

_Which reminded her, she didn’t even know that girl’s name yet._

Isa was about to politely ask her when an orange-ish light emerging on her right-hand side got her attention. She let out a sigh of disappointment and stood up, brushing the dust off her nightdress.

“Uh, excuse me,” she said in a low voice, but Florence raised a finger in the air and hissed;

“Don’t interrupt me.”

“I’m sorry but I just have to go now. The sun is rising.”

Florence took her eyes off the page and looked up at Isa through her thick fringe. “Have you got a problem with the sun? Does it burn your skin, or something?”

Isabella shook her head. “What? No! It’s just that my father has this strange habit of checking on me every day, really early in the morning.” Isabella nearly winced as she explained that to Florence.

Florence marked the page with her finger and stood up, raising her free hand to ruffle her fringe. “It shows that he cares about you a lot,” she said, trying to keep the sadness and a tinge of envy away from her voice.

Only a few years ago, her father used to do the same to her and Grace. And then her mother would have a hard time trying to have a calm breakfast as all three of them shouted stupid things at each other and planned the hectic day they would have. Now their new house was too silent, and had a lot of unoccupied space. At some point the world had become gigantic and she felt like a small, little ant desperately trying not to get swallowed by it.

Isa snorted. “No, he does not. He only likes to make sure I’m following his orders and not leaving the house  _ever_ ,” she said bitterly.

And just like that, Florence felt something that could be sorry _,_ or perhaps feel sympathy, for that girl.

“Could I come back tonight, though?”

Florence pretended to ponder for a second. “I believe you can. I need to tell you what I thought of this book, anyway.”

Isa smiled. “I’ll be here.”

==

Florence spent most of the afternoon by the lake, reading the book Isabella had given her, only going back home after she’d finished reading it. She left the book under the same tree she had sat under earlier that day, not wanting Grace to get a glimpse of it and ask her  _how_   and  _where_  she had gotten that book. It was way too soon to let her sister know about Isabella.

She did a great job at hiding her anxiety and excitement as she spent the rest of the evening with her sister doing what they would normally do. She prepared dinner an hour early, though – she wanted Grace to go to bed early as well.

“Are you alright, Flossie?” Grace asked when Florence had laid her down on her bed. “You seemed slightly off all day.”

Florence blinked twice and let out a noise that was meant to be a chuckle, but sounded more like a snort. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Grace narrowed her eyes, clearly not believing her sister’s words, but she decided not to insist. Florence kissed her goodnight and waited until her breathing was calm and deep to get out of bed and sneak out of her house.

“Look after her. Call me immediately, if necessary,” she said to Rob, who was in his regular form of a crow as she walked past him towards the entrance of the forest.

She arrived there early and sat down under that same tree, flipping through the pages of the book again, re-reading the paragraphs she had liked the most – her mind was a black hole for most things, but never for books and songs; she would always remember the smallest details about them. Her eyes would wander to the river from time to time, unconsciously searching for Isabella.

Florence felt a sudden, unexpected jolt of something she couldn’t quite decipher when she saw, out of her peripherals, Isabella approaching her. And that same something pulled at the corners of her mouth, forming a small, almost imperceptible smile – which she managed to brush away before Isabella could see it.

“There you are,” Isabella said, stopping at a safe distance from Florence. “Surprisingly  _visible_  this time.” Florence raised an eyebrow at her and stood up, running her long fingers through her hair. Isabella noticed for the first time just  _how tall_  Florence really was: she was a whole foot taller than Isa. But it didn’t make Isabella feel intimidated or anything; she actually felt strangely at ease around Florence.

“So what did you think of the new book?” she inquired after a few seconds of silence.

Florence looked down at the cover again, running a hand over it. “I liked it quite a bit,” she confessed, then added in a lower voice, “I guess I can get used to reading your books.”

Excitement washed over Isabella’s body as she asked, “Does it mean you accept the deal?” Florence shot her a death glare. “Oh, I forgot you don’t like that word. What should we call it, then?”

“A  _condition_. You keep bringing me books and I’ll allow you to cross the river.” Isabella nodded, smiling. “ _But_ , there’s another condition: I want to know  _what_  you’ll get from it. Because I refuse to believe you’d be satisfied with just coming here and bringing me books. There’s clearly something in it for you. So give me a reason, a reasonable one, and  _‘I’m being nice’_ doesn’t count.”

Isabella decided not to lie. “I find you interesting and fascinating and I’d like to spend some time in your company. Get to know the real person instead of just reading doubtful facts about fairies in books.”

That caught Florence by surprise. She wasn’t expecting that kind of answer. She had never seen adjectives being used to compliment her before, only to insult. But then again, Isabella had been surprisingly nice since the very first minute. And, for some unknown reason, she felt that she could –  _should_  – do the same. She was more powerful than that girl, anyway. If anything went wrong, she could just send her back home.

“And,” Isabella went on, “I also want to do something for myself. I mean, I spent my whole life listening about things I should not do and following orders and that night when I crossed the river I felt somewhat  _stronger_. I know it’s stupid, but coming here just makes me feel  _good_.” She chuckled, averting Florence’s eyes. “It’s all really stupid and kind of selfish. Sorry to disappoint you.”

However, somehow, Florence didn’t find it selfish – not in the slightest.

“Alright, Intruder,” she announced. “I hope you’re aware that my company is all you’re getting, because if you think I’ll—”

“I don’t expect anything else, really,” Isabella urged; the sunlight was already reaching them, she had to go home  _now_. “Thank you for doing this, err, your majesty.”

Florence growled. “Don’t call me that.”

“I thought you were a queen?”

“It doesn’t mean I like to be treated as such,” she snapped. Isabella suppressed a smile; she could perfectly relate to that.

“What should I call you, then?”

Florence took a deep breath. “Florence. My name’s Florence.”

 _Florence_. Now that creature had a name and it gave her an identity. She wasn’t just a fairy anymore like thousands of others Isabella was sure existed somewhere in the world. She was her own being. She was a person with a past and a history and dreams and it somehow made her seem more real, more  _human_.

Isabella smiled broadly. “Alright, then. I’ll see you at night, Florence.”

She started walking back to the castle and Florence was left wondering whether her name had ever sounded so strangely  _beautiful_  in someone else’s voice before.


	6. The Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter, guys. Sorry it's taking a while, but Kate has been really busy with work and trying her best to help us with this fic, so let's be patient, okay? ;)  
> This chapter is slightly angsty, but don't worry, a lot of things are yet to happen... Anyway, I hope you guys like it, and if you ever want to comment something, don't be shy, I love talking to people *-* Thank you for reading <3 XXX

  
  


Their nighttime reunions – which happened about three days a week – had become a habit that both of them had quickly grown accustomed to. While it had been extremely easy for Isabella to fool her parents into thinking nothing had changed at all, it had required Florence a little more dedication to escape her sister’s perceptual eyes. Grace had been giving her suggestive looks, but Florence had been doing a good job at pretending she didn’t notice any of them. She knew she would have to tell Grace sooner or later, but she was betting on _later_.

Rob, on the other hand, had succumbed to temptation and followed her after only two weeks of her escaping, finding out about Isabella. Oddly enough, he didn’t say anything against it when Florence had talked to him. On the contrary, he had said:  _“I’m glad you can see that not everyone is like those guards, or the King.”_  Florence had never talked to him about Isabella again, but had allowed him to follow her sometimes – it felt somewhat nice to have a friend around when talking to a stranger.

Isabella had asked Florence about the crow following her, once. Florence had turned him into a human right before her eyes and left her speechless for a solid five minutes. She had concluded, though, that there were thousands of things she still hadn’t witnessed that would amaze and surprise her – the whole land was just a map of things she didn’t quite understand yet. Rob proved himself a good man (if she could even call him that) and they had become good mates, eventually.

Her conversations with Florence were generally about the books Isabella had brought to her. They would discuss the story and the best parts, and even imagine what had happened in the characters’ lives after the end of the book. Isa had tried to talk to her about music at some point, but Florence had politely dismissed the subject. Florence hadn’t felt comfortable enough to sing in front of Isabella yet, but she would hum sometimes, when she was either focused on her reading or distracted, thinking about things she wouldn’t tell Isa.

Despite the safe distance Florence liked to keep between them, Isabella had learned a few things about her. Besides her age (she was only nineteen years old), Isa had learned that under a few layers of coldness and forced indifference resided a timid, cheerful girl that seemed to have been forgotten, but desperately wanted to make a comeback. She would see a sparkle in Florence’s eyes, sometimes, or a small smile tug at her dimples, and then would watch as Florence struggled to wipe them off her face, as if feeling joy was an unforgivable sin. Isabella had also concluded Florence was either really scared or really worried most of the time. Her features were always tense and her posture always defensive, like a scared animal that craved attention, yet feared it at the same time.

And Isabella caught herself thinking, on more than one occasion, that she wanted to be the one to awaken that girl inside of Florence.

As the weeks passed by and they got closer to the middle of spring, Isabella was sure that the most beautiful, rare flower in that entire forest was yet to bloom – and she was watching it happen right before her eyes.

==

Florence was reading what might perfectly well be the twelfth book Isa had brought to her so far, while absently biting at her pear. Isabella sat cross-legged opposite her, with one small knife in one hand and a small piece of wood in the other. Among her secret talents, she could mention making wooden sculptures of all sizes. She had learned it growing up and could proudly say she had mastered this talent, now. Her father, always so critical and judgmental, would frequently repeat that he saw no use in such work and that she should focus on learning to be a better woman and future wife, but Isabella would always ignore his hash words. Her mother supported her, though – she would always support her no matter what.

Isabella had been working on her newest sculpture for a few days and had decided to bring it with her to the forest tonight. She never had anything to do when Florence was reading, besides talking to Rob sometimes, when he was around. She had been working on it for a few hours now, absently peeling the wood bark off to model the wood into the shape she wanted.

Florence noticed, after a few pages into her book, that Isabella had been strangely quiet all night. She took her eyes off the page and looked up at Isa over her book. When she saw the objects in Isa’s hands, she frowned, curious. “What are you doing?”

Her soft voice startled Isabella, jerking her back to reality. “Um, nothing…?” she answered, instinctively hiding her piece of work in her lap.

Florence rolled her eyes and gestured with her hand towards Isa. The small piece of wood flew from Isa’s lap to Florence’s hand before Isabella could take notice of it moving at all.

“Hey!” she barked. “Using your magic to take advantage of me isn’t fair.”

Florence raised a hand in the air, gesticulating for her to shut up. Her green, curious eyes looked down at the object in her hands. Even though it was dark, the full moon was doing a good job of illuminating that part of the forest, making it possible for Florence to see the figure she was holding clearly. It was a fairy for sure; she could see the wings peeking from behind her shoulders. But a more cautious look at the sculpture told Florence that it wasn’t just any fairy: it was  _Florence_. The fairy didn’t have features yet, her face was still blank, but Flo could see the wavy hair and the fringe, which she was sure would touch the fairy’s eyes once Isa gave her some. The fairy was wearing a long dress and was barefoot, just like Flo herself. She didn’t know why Isabella had made a sculpture of her, but there was no doubt it  _was_  her.

She blinked a few times, as if to make sure the wooden object wouldn’t vanish right before her eyes. Her throat was strangely dry and her book long forgotten on the grass beside her. “This is me,” she said. Thankfully her voice sounded as clear and confident as she’d intended it to. Nonetheless, her eyes didn’t meet Isa’s.

“Yes,” Isa answered with a sigh. “I was quite bored, so I decided to keep myself occupied with this.”

For a few seconds Florence’s face stayed blank. But then a small, meaningful smile spread across her lips and softened her features – Isabella didn’t notice it, but she smiled, too. “This is really beautiful, Isabella. I like it. I’m keeping it.”

Isabella sniggered. “You mean you’re  _stealing_  it from me.” Florence just shrugged. “Could I at least finish it? Maybe paint it and give it a face?”

Florence shook her head. “No. You’d never give it back to me.”

“I would _,_ though _._ I  _will._ ”

Florence shook her head again. “I like it this way. It’s raw and pure. I’m keeping it.”

Isa lifted her arms and let them drop against her lap, defeated. Sometimes Florence acted like a stubborn child, and Isa had learned that in moments like those, the best she could do was to accept whatever the redhead said or wanted. Especially when she was in no position to argue. She tucked her knife into the pocket of the cape she was wearing over the nightdress and looked towards Florence again, only to find Flo staring back at her.

“What else do you do that I don’t know?” Florence asked.

 _You know nothing about me yet,_ Isabella thought. She stretched her short legs and shrugged. “Not much. Other than reading and making wooden sculptures, I just  _play_.”

She had Florence’s full attention now. She leaned forward, suddenly interested. “What instruments do you play?”

“Only piano. My family owns a grand piano and I play it sometimes. I kind of taught myself to play it growing up.”

“Wow. That’s more impressive than reading,” Florence deadpanned.

Isabella rolled her eyes. “And what do  _you_  do besides magic and sing?”

Florence leaned back against the trunk of the tree, her hands fiddling with the hem of her dress. “Nothing interesting like yourself. I just  _write_.”

Isabella waited for her to elaborate further, but she fell silent. So she incited: “What kind of things do you normally write?”

It was weird for Florence to talk about it to someone other than her sister. After the incident of two years ago, she had grown accustomed to her partial solitude and silence. Opening up had never been one of her greatest traits, and things had only gotten worse in the past years. She was starting to feel uncomfortable, and her eyes were fixed on her hands when she answered, “Poetry, mostly. But I always end up turning them to music. Or sometimes I improvise lyrics when I’m singing, and if I like it, I write them down in my notebook.”

Isabella smiled. She was glad Florence was cooperating and talking about herself a little. “I don’t see how you can think this isn’t impressive. I find it amazing.” Florence’s eyes met Isabella’s for only a second before she looked down at her hands again. Her hair draped over her face like a fire curtain.

“I’d love to see this notebook someday.”

The blood drained from Florence’s face and her hand flew up to her head, tangling in her hair. “I’m afraid it will never happen, Isabella.” Her voice was shaky and nervous. “Besides, I haven’t written anything lately. I haven’t been feeling much inspired ever since…” she trailed off, biting her tongue. She could not believe she had been  _this_  close to mentioning that delicate subject to this complete stranger. More than that, she couldn’t believe she was giving space for Isabella to ask questions. That had never been part of the plan.

“Since…what?” Isabella asked, calmly, not wanting to push too hard.

Florence looked at her – there was no trace of the cheerful girl Isabella had gotten a glimpse of just a few minutes ago. “You’re distracting me from my reading,” she said coldly.

Isabella tried to keep the next words in, but an imaginary force opened her mouth and pulled them out. “Florence, you can talk to me. You can  _trust_ me.”

The next thing happened too fast – so fast that Isabella’s eyes weren’t capable of assimilating it. Florence stood up and flew towards Isa, her tall body towering over her, shielding the moonlight and making her face look dark and almost threatening. Her green eyes peered into Isa’s, but they didn’t even look like eyes; they were two cold, lifeless emeralds, staring at Isa’s scared and apologetic grey eyes.

“I guess you misunderstood our relationship here, Isabella,” Florence said between gritted teeth. “I thought I had made it clear that my company was  _everything_  you’d get. There isn’t any kind of friendship being developed here. It could  _never_  happen between your kind and mine. Don’t be stupid!”

Isabella stayed silent. She could tell Florence was angry, but it wasn’t all she could hear in her voice. There was a tinge of bitterness and what Isa identified as  _pain._ She wasn’t just pushing Isabella away, she was protecting herself. And if Isabella focused hard enough, she would be able to hear the ghosts of apologies that were dying behind her parted lips. Apologies that would have been addressed not only to Isa, but to Florence herself.

Isa was reminded of the intimidating existence of that gigantic wall of thorns blocking the entrance of the forest. She was reminded that whatever had happened in Florence’s past that had forced her to build that wall was probably the cause of this reaction as well. And then Isabella understood that Florence had built invisible walls around herself with the same purpose: to keep everyone from getting in and anything from getting out. And Isa was only now realising she had just tried to break right through that wall. An  _intruder_  – Florence had called her, after all.

She made to speak, but Florence interrupted. “It could never happen between your kind and mine,” she repeated, but in a low voice this time. And for a moment Isa wasn’t quite sure if she was trying to convince Isa or herself. Florence wasn’t sure of that either.

“Florence—”

“You better go home now, Isabella,” she cut off, pulling away and turning her back to Isa; her wings were all Isa could see.

“We’ve got a few more hours. The sun isn’t rising yet,” she argued, standing up. She heard Florence exhale through her throat, but what she couldn’t see was how tight Florence was holding the small wooden sculpture in her hands.

“You shall leave now,” she said again with more authority this time.

Isabella understood that that had been an order. “Am I welcome here tomorrow night?”

Florence didn’t turn to face her as she answered, “Wait for it to be tomorrow night and we shall see.”

Isabella nodded to herself and walked the few steps towards the river. As her feet sunk in the water, she felt her heart do the same.


	7. The Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 7 guys!!!! I'm sorry it's taking so long for the uploads, but we have the best beta-reader in the world, and even though she has been very busy, she's still revising this fic, so let's be patient, okay? *puppy eyes*
> 
> This chapter marks the end of phase 2 and the beginning of phase 3 of this fic, in which their relationship starts to evolve. Thank you everyone for reading. I love every and single one of you <33 I hope you like it :) Xxxx

  
  
  


The sunlight streamed in through the window and made its way onto Florence’s body. She half opened her eyes and growled when the brightness stung them, rolling onto her side and using her wing to shield her eyes – her  _body_ , really – from the sun. She had become used to sleeping during the day, thanks to her recently developed nocturnal habits, but today she wasn’t in the mood to handle the light, or the birds’ singing, or the sound of the soft breeze hitting the wooden walls of her house… She wasn’t in the mood to handle  _anything_.

Fairies are known to have really good health, but Florence was pretty sure she was sickening for something. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t exactly her health that wasn’t good; it was her  _spirit_ , instead. She was feeling emotionally sick –  _if_  such a thing even existed. She had been turning the events of that night over and over in her head, trying to understand what exactly had prompted that reaction, but her mind was failing miserably at coming up with a plausible explanation. And her inability to understand her own feelings was flooding her chest with frustration. Which was why she wasn’t in a good mood.

A light knock on the door brought her back from her wonderings. She heard the door opening and closing and heard footsteps getting closer. When the footsteps stopped, a soft, tender voice called out, “Flossie, are you feeling alright?”

Florence flinched at her sister’s question and drew her knees up to her chest, holding them tightly. Her wings still covering her body and keeping Grace from seeing her anguished expression.

“Yes,” she answered, her voice muffled and distant.

Grace narrowed her eyes, placing her hands on her hips. “You haven’t gone out in five days.”

“I’ve been quite tired.” That wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either.

“Florence, stop hiding behind your wings, or so help me, God!” Grace scolded her, running her hands through her short blonde hair.

Florence sighed audibly, reluctantly sliding her wings off her body, letting them rest in their place on her back. “Satisfied?” she grunted.

“Flo, I know you’ve been keeping something from me.” Not one to waste time, Grace went straight to the point. “I didn’t question you about it because you seemed fine –  _really_  fine, I must add. But you’ve been strangely quiet for the past few days and I don’t like it.”

The conversation was going in a dangerous direction. Florence contemplated running away, but deep down she knew it would be useless – she would have to come back home sooner or later. She knew she had kept it from her sister for longer than she should have, but the real problem was that she still wasn’t ready to talk about it. So she ignored Grace’s words just for the sake of it.

Grace took a few steps closer, stopping right beside her sister. Her voice was softer when she spoke again: “Flo, will you talk to me about it?”

“I’m not sure I should,” she answered with a sigh.

Grace knelt down beside her, her hands landing on Florence’s arm. “Flo, we only have each other. We’ve got to take care of one another. You’ve done a great job taking care of me in the past two years. Let me do the same for you, now.”

It was impressive how Grace could be so mature being only 16 years old, when Florence herself had trouble facing her problems most of the time. But then again, Grace had always been more organized, mature and rational than Florence. She would always think before acting and would weigh the pros and cons, whilst Florence would always just simply  _react_. Grace had always been the brain, and Florence just raw, pure emotion. Grace was used to it already, but it still made Florence feel bad sometimes – she was the older one, she should be the one carrying the problems on her back, not her little sister.

Florence stretched an arm out to touch Grace’s face. “You already do a lot for me, Gracie,” she said, her voice breaking slightly at the end.

A sweet smile crept over Grace’s lips. “Then let me do more. Talk to me.”

Florence took a deep breath. This wasn’t just about herself and Isabella anymore, she concluded. If it was disturbing Grace, she had the right to know. She sat up on the bed, facing her sister. “Alright. But promise me you won’t freak out.”

Grace chuckled. “I’m not the one who normally does.”

Florence smiled, but her mind was already elaborating the best way of telling Grace what she needed to tell her. After a few seconds, she opened her mouth and started speaking.

==

Grace stayed silent during her sister’s monologue. She didn’t want to interrupt because Florence had stumbled over her own words a few times and struggled to finish her sentences throughout her speech, and Grace knew that commenting on anything or asking questions would only make her even more nervous. So she waited patiently for her sister to finish her story before attempting to say something.

“I don’t see why you kept this from me for so long,” she said calmly.

Florence wrinkled her nose, her green eyes looking away from her sister’s. “Because I thought you would get mad at me for  _specifically_ talking to one of _them_.”

“One of  _them_?” Grace repeated. “I never disliked them, to begin with. I don’t have an opinion formed about them yet. And this girl…” It took her a second to recall the name. “… Isabella. She seems very  _nice_.”

Grace’s words soothed Florence’s nerves a little and her muscles relaxed. Her hand automatically moved up to ruffle her reddish hair. “I know. But even though I know that, I still overreacted when she asked me those things.”

“That’s not a surprise; you always overreact,” Grace taunted, rolling her eyes. “But maybe you acted that way because you felt somewhat guilty because of the incident two years ago.” Even though Grace was strong, Florence could perfectly hear the pain in her remark. She squeezed her hair in her hand, tugging at it slightly.

“Or perhaps you’re just scared because you’re actually starting to  _like_  Isa’s company…?”

Florence’s eyes met her sister’s and she held her glare. Sometimes Florence forgot Grace had this strange yet convenient ability to read her. She would always notice the smallest and most gentle changes in her sister, even when Florence couldn’t see them herself. And she had just done it again – reached deep into Florence and hit right in the core of the matter. But instead of feeling vulnerable or exposed, Florence felt surprisingly relieved.

“I’m definitely scared,” she confessed, feeling the air coming in and out of her lungs more easily than before. Her eyes darted to the floor, though, unable to keep eye contact as she bared her soul. “Scared because I  _do_ like her company. Scared because I liked the fact that she wanted to talk to me and  _especially_  scared because  _I wanted_  to talk to her, too.” Florence was clenching the sheets and her index finger was digging into the fabric.

Grace nodded, satisfied and content that her sister was cooperating. “Then you should have,” she affirmed, confident. Florence snapped her head up to face her sister, incredulous. Grace nodded again, reassuring her. “I know what you are thinking, but look, there are bad people in the world, who hurt and hunt and kill, but there are good people too…”

If Grace was still saying something after that, Florence wasn’t listening. There was a buzz in her ears now, blocking out all the other sounds. Her pulse was racing and she felt as though someone had just thrown a bucket of freezing water on her. She had just been reminded of what she had done two years ago. She had been reminded of Grace’s first reaction – shock, fear, and perhaps even disappointment. She had buried her worst sin somewhere outside of the forest, on the other side of the wall of thorns – she had buried it on the King’s land, along with her integrity and dreams and hope.

She had feared things would change between them after she had told Grace the truth. But luckily for her, after the shock of the moment had faded away, Grace had been perfectly capable of understanding Florence’s motivation and feelings. She had forgiven her, stayed by her side and supported her, regardless. And when Florence had told her about the dark, consuming shadow that lived in her heart, Grace had insisted that her heart hadn’t become dark –  _“A mistake you make doesn’t define who you are, Flossie.”_  Florence had been trying really hard to believe in that, too.

She wondered for a moment if  _Isabella_  would still want to be around her, would still make an effort to be her friend if she knew what she had done. And for the first time since she had cast the curse, Florence asked herself if that had been the best decision to make.

She didn’t have much time to think about it, for Grace’s hand wrapped around hers and squeezed it slightly, bringing her back to reality.

“Isabella isn’t like those people who attacked us, Flossie,” Grace continued with a sympathetic smile. “If she’s trying to be your friend, you should let her.”

Florence swallowed hard, her hand squeezing her sister’s tighter. “There can’t be friendship between her kind and ours,” she muttered, her eyes fixed on some spot past behind her sister. In all honesty, she was just trying to justify that perhaps, maybe,  _Isa_  was the one who shouldn’t want to be around her.

Grace nearly snorted. “Now you’re being silly and just trying to find excuses not to try. That’s something our parents told us when we were kids to prevent us –  _you_ , actually – from crossing the river. You’re an adult now, and so is Isabella. And if things get out of control, you can send her away. Also,” she stopped, a small smile pulling at one corner of her mouth, “I know you’ll regret it forever if you don’t give it a try.”

That switched something inside Florence, bringing a faint sparkle back to her eyes. Believing in a remote possibility that Isabella might never find out about the curse, and relying on the fact that she was trying to be friendly – no, that she was trying to be Florence’s  _friend –_  she concluded that maybe she should, and deserved, to try.

She nodded to herself and at Grace. “You’re right.”

“I know,” Grace bragged. “So you’ll meet her tonight?”

An unwelcome smile spread across Florence’s lips. “Yes.” She leaned in and planted a kiss on her sister’s forehead. “Thank you, Grace. Thank you for being more mature than I am.”

Grace flipped her hair melodramatically. “Everyone is more mature than you,” she joked and Florence slapped her shoulder lightly. “But don’t think it was free advice. I want something in return: I want to meet Isabella.”

Florence had seen that coming. She averted her eyes from her sister, standing up. “Maybe one day—”

“No,” Grace interrupted. “You have to promise.”

Florence rolled her eyes. “When she gains my trust, I’ll let you meet her.” Grace looked at her suggestively, raising her eyebrows. Florence sighed and added, in a clear voice, “It’s a promise.”

==

Florence couldn’t help but feel slightly worried that Isabella might not be by the river tonight. She had treated her quite badly that day and had spent the following five days without seeing her, not to mention all those times she had very well told her she should  _leave_. So Florence figured that Isabella might have grown tired of her and given up on trying to be around her. It’s not that she was being negative, she was just being rational.

All her worries and nervousness were blown away as she opened a small crack on the wall, just enough for her to slip through it, and her eyes fell on the small figure sitting down on the other side of the river. She didn’t even need to get closer: she already  _knew_  it was Isabella.

She walked slowly, making as little noise as possible, approaching her quietly and giving herself time to wipe away the wide smile from her face. She was decided to give Isabella a chance – a  _real_  chance this time – but it didn’t mean she wanted Isa to find this out that very moment.

However, Isabella glanced up towards the wall and her eyes found Florence, who was now standing only a few inches away from the river. A smile tugged at her full lips and quickly vanished, as if she wasn’t sure if smiling in that moment was acceptable. Florence felt a strange urge to tell her to smile again – no, she felt a strange urge to  _make_  her smile.

But instead she cleared her throat and said; “Afraid to cross the river again?”

Isabella smoothed her nightdress and fixed her cape. “I’m not sure I should cross it.”

Florence lifted her chin, her reddish hair bouncing. “Stop with the drama and move your arse over here.”

Isabella smiled broadly this time, not even bothering to hide it anymore. She had spent the past week away from Florence and had genuinely thought she would never see her again, and now here she was, standing right in front of her and for some unknown reason, the jolt of excitement and contentment that rushed over Isa’s body was stronger than the one she had felt the very first time she had seen her.

Florence looked slightly different to her, too. Her skin looked even smoother and even paler. The moonlight was playing with her hair, making it look more red than orange and the soft breeze was bringing life to it. She looked less stressed, too, Isa could see it, and also less nervous and worried. There was a genuine sparkle in her eyes that brought out a little of that cheerful girl to her features. Isa’s heart skipped a beat as she inwardly admitted that Florence looked  _beautiful._ More than that; she looked like the mythical creature she really was.

Isa stopped in front of her after she stepped on the other side and looked up at her face, unwittingly grasping at her nightdress. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice low, but clear.

Florence shook her head, briskly. “No;  _I’m_  sorry. It wasn’t your fault, really. My mood switches quite easily.”

“You don’t say,” Isa taunted, raising an eyebrow. Florence ignored the commentary.

“I overreacted.”

Isabella shrugged, suppressing the sudden urge to touch Florence’s hand to reassure her that she wasn’t mad. “It’s alright. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard.”

Isabella was sure she could see a small smile on Florence’s lips as she asked: “Can we leave it behind us?”

“Am I still welcome here?”

“Do I still get my books?”

Isabella let out a laugh of relief and the sound triggered something inside Florence that she couldn’t quite decipher, but it flamed something in her stomach and made it churn, but not in an uncomfortable way; more like in way that tickled her from the inside. She smiled in return, unconsciously bringing a hand to her chest.

“I’m glad we’re good,” Florence confessed, motioning with her head for them to go and sit under that same tree, so that she could finally finish the book she had started a week ago and hadn’t read since.

Half way through their small journey, Isabella nudged her in the ribs with her elbow, causing Florence to flinch and look down at her with a questioning look on her face.

“Admit you missed me,” Isabella proclaimed with a mischievous grin.

Florence’s mouth hung open. “ _What_  makes you think I missed you?”

“We’ve been seeing each other for a while now. It’s almost the end of spring.”

Florence let out a noise that was half a snort and half a chuckle and sat down on the grass under the tree, placing the book over her knees. Isabella was still standing, looking down at her. “Alright,” she rolled her eyes. “I confess that you’re so  _annoying_  that you make yourself remarkable.”

She looked down at her book, pretending disinterest, but the smile on her face was visible now. Isabella sat down beside her this time, tired of the annoying distance Florence would normally impose. Florence tensed up, glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, but didn’t pull away. Isa leaned in so that she could read the book as well, and Florence would never admit it, but she really enjoyed the warmth of Isabella’s body pressed against hers.

With her eyes still on the pages, Isabella bit her bottom lip and added, “Don’t worry. I missed you, too.”

And she could swear she heard Florence giggle for the first time.


	8. The Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter guys! Thank you everyone for reading, for leaving comments/kudos and for having the patience to wait for the chapters ;) As always, I'd like to thank Kate for being awesome and betaing this for us. This is one of mine and Tan's favourite chapters (I had so much fun writing it!), so I hope you like it too :)
> 
> Anyway, this is the last chapter we're uploading this year, but we'll have something for you between the first and second weeks of January for sure. I wish you all an amazing holidays <3 And I hope you'll stick around for more fics next year ;D Xxxx

  
  
  


It was the third week of summer and the weather was cool and the moon bright.  Florence was wearing a light blue dress with the hem just above her ankles and had her hair braided in a crown around her head. A few strands had fallen from the braid and were hanging messily around her face. She sat cross-legged on the grass, feeding Rob, who was in his natural form of a crow, black and red berries. There were a few other birds around her, too, occasionally stealing a few berries from her hand and lap. A soft smile graced her lips as she played with them.

Isabella stood a few inches away from them, admiring Florence’s relaxed expression and cute smile before approaching her, her hands full of sheets of paper.

“Florence: the Mother of Nature,” she joked, drawing Flo’s attention to her. “So this is what you do when I’m not here?”

“No,” Florence answered, narrowing her eyes. “This is what I do when I’m here waiting for you.” She frowned, then, as her eyes noticed what Isabella was holding. “What’s this?”

Isa looked down at her own hands, as if recalling why she had brought these papers. “Oh, this is for something I’d like to try with you,” she said, sitting down beside Florence. A wide smile had spread across her face, but Florence was still frowning, her curious eyes trying to get a glimpse of what Isa was holding.

Things had changed between them again, but for the better this time. The invisible wall that had existed around Florence was slowly, but surely crashing down with every passing day. Isabella didn’t know what had prompted such change, but she was enjoying the small yet significant proximity Florence was had allowed to exist between them.

It had happened gradually, though. Florence had started, probably unconsciously, leaving the books aside for longer and longer periods of time every night, so that she could dedicate a few minutes to talking to Isabella about various things. She would even include Rob in the conversation, sometimes, and Isabella would only remember she had a house to go back to when the sun was already touching the part of the forest where they reunited each night.

This sudden and very welcome change in their relationship had given Isabella courage to try to execute a different thing tonight with Florence, if the redhead would approve her idea, that is.

“Will you elaborate further or will I have to guess?” Florence insisted, growing impatient with Isabella’s silence as the blonde sprawled the sheets of paper all around the grass in front of them.

Isabella laughed lightly, excitement washing over her. “These are music sheets. Remember when I told you that I taught myself to play? So I kind of learned to write these, too. I brought some of my favourite ones.” She turned her head to face Florence only to find a confused expression on Florence’s face that didn’t quite match the happiness on Isabella’s.

“And you brought this because…”

“Because I thought we could try something together. Like, I could play and you could sing. What do you think?”

Something flickered in Florence’s eyes for just one second before she blinked it way and shook her head, looking down at her lap. “I don’t think I could sing anything in front of you, Isabella.”

“That’s nonsense,” Isa retorted. “I told you I’ve heard you sing before. Countless times, I must say.”

Florence glanced up at her for a moment and shook her head again. “That’s something entirely different.” She stood up, turning her back to Isabella.

It wasn’t that she was scared; she just didn’t think she was ready to bare her soul to Isabella through her songs yet. They were all a secret confession, a whisper of her feelings, a ghost of her pain, memories of her past. She had always only sung in front of her family – and Rob, when he was in crow form –, and mostly to her sister, and singing those songs to Isabella now would be the same as tearing her chest open and yelling at Isa to have a look inside her beating heart.

Contradictorily, a part of her inwardly wanted that. She had been keeping things inside her for quite a while now, and she knew she needed to free them, to exorcise them. And yet another part of her was screaming that it was alright to do that if it was Isabella who would be listening.

Isa stood up, too, and without thinking, letting only her instincts guide her, reached out for Florence’s hand and held it tight in her small ones. Isa could see and feel Florence tense up, but she only looked down at their interlaced hands inexpressively, without pulling away.

“It was your voice that made me cross the river, remember?” Isa said, calmly. “Also, we’re not strangers anymore, right? There’s no reason for you to feel nervous or uneasy around me.” Florence’s hand moved between her own and their fingers intertwined.

“This would be the first time I’d play for someone that isn’t my family as well. We’re in this together.” She winked at Florence.

The use of the pronoun ‘ _we_ ’ and the word ‘ _together_ ’ clicked something inside of Florence that quickly spread through her body, leaving no room for worries or insecurities. She gave Isabella a small smile and looked around, searching for something she could turn into a piano. A big rock that lay just a few meters away from them seemed perfect. With a gentle movement of her finger, a grey grand piano was created. Isabella smiled, meeting Florence’s eyes.

“I guess we should play, then,” Florence stated.

==

It was one thing to hear Florence sing from afar. It was another thing to hear her sing right in front of her. And it was another completely different thing to  _see_ Florence sing.

She started off singing quietly, her voice just above a whisper, her hands shaking and sweating. But slowly, gradually, her voice grew louder and more confident, her hands stopped shaking and started moving about. All the uneasiness that had resided in her body just a few minutes before had faded away and given place to the confident woman Florence would always become when she was singing.

There was something special in the way Florence sang. In the way her voice wrapped the words in tenderness and affection. In the way her body moved gently, her hands lightly touching her neck, her chest, sometimes clawing at the fabric of her dress. In the way her voice would poetically, dramatically oscillate from soft to loud, when the emotions inside her were too strong to bear. In the way small, almost imperceptible tears would well in her eyes as she looked up at the heavens, her hands stretched towards the sky sacrificially. It felt almost as though she was belting out a battle cry, and after paying attention to the lyrics, Isabella was sure that that was  _exactly_  what they were.

Every song was a scar, a mark of something that had happened in Florence’s life. But instead of feeling guilty or ashamed, Florence would belt out the worlds, exposing her scars and proudly showing that yes, it  _had_ hurt, but she had survived. She was a strong girl, Isa concluded, she just didn’t know her strength yet.

“So? Was it any good?” Florence asked as they finished their private show.

Isabella smiled broadly and clapped her hands, being accompanied by Rob, who now sat on a branch in a tree near the girls. He couldn’t clap, though, but he let out a loud noise and nodded his little crow head. A blush crept over Florence’s cheeks and she laughed lightly, bringing a hand to her mouth to muffle the already soft sound of her laugh.

“Thank you,” she mouthed to Isa.

“Your voice is  _unbelievable_. I know you’re a very powerful fairy, but I can affirm that your voice is your _best_  magic.” Isabella said, getting closer to her and holding her hand again, just to make sure she wouldn’t pull away. And she didn’t. She squeezed Isa’s hand, instead.

“You know what’s funny?” Florence said, feeling a sudden urge to talk, to release her nervousness somehow. “My sister would always tell me to never stop singing because someone could fall in love with my voice, and… not that you’ve fallen in love with my voice, but it attracted you and made you cross the river anyway. I guess Grace was right, in the end.”

Isabella laughed, but mostly because Florence had just spontaneously shared a random fact of her life with her. “So you have a sister.”

Florence nodded, not even regretting her words. “Yes. A little sister.” Then her voice lowered to a whisper and she added, “She’s the only family I have.”

Isabella felt that if she kept asking her questions, Florence might answer them all, but she wanted to send the shadow that had fallen over Florence’s eyes away. So she just said, “She seems to be very wise.”

Florence smiled again and it softened her features. “She really is.”

“I’d love to meet her someday.”

 _The feeling is mutual_ , Florence thought. But she only answered, “One day you will.”

==

“You know, it still surprises me that you keep coming back here practically every night,” Florence said out of the blue.

They were lying down on the grass beside each other – a few days after they had played together – so close that every time one of them moved a little, their arms touched.  Isabella frowned at Florence’s words and propped herself up on her elbow so that she could see Florence’s face better.

“But  _why_ does it surprise you?”

Florence rolled her eyes. “Alright let’s face it; we don’t do anything interesting enough to keep your attention and interest. I just thought that you would have gotten tired of me by this point.” She looked into Isa’s eyes for one second and Isa could swear she could see sadness rising behind them. “I just keep thinking that you  _will_  get tired of me sooner or later.”

Isabella properly sat up on the grass and took Florence’s hand in both of her own – holding hands had become another habit of theirs now. “Don’t be silly. Coming here is probably the best part of my day.” She had used the word ‘ _probably_ ’ only to ease the effect of her words. In all honesty, it really  _was_  the best part of her day.

“I love spending time with you.”

Florence sat up, too, and crawled closer to Isabella, craving for her comfortable, soothing warmth. “But _why_? What do I have to offer you besides my rambles and music and… See? There’s nothing else!”

Isabella shook her head. “I guess you misunderstood my words, darling. I said I like spending time with  _you,_ and not that I like the things you give me. And as for why I like spending time with you, I can mention that you’re different from all those fake people I’m accustomed to. They all pretend to be someone they’re not, and you’re just you. And I like it; I like you. I find you fascinating.”

Florence giggled, looking down at their linked hands so that her hair would fall around her face and work as a shield. “I’m completely ordinary, though,” she softly retorted.

“You’re a lot of things, darling, but I can assure you that ordinary you are  _not_.”

Florence sighed sadly, being reminded of a second of the two small things that probably made her seem fascinating to Isabella: the wings and the magic. She looked slightly upset when she raised her head to face Isa again.

“Right, I may have one or two interesting things—”

“One or two?” Isa laughed lightly. “I don’t know what you think of yourself, but, Florence, you’re a beautiful, talented girl and you should never doubt it. I appreciate how much you love books and music, and how much you care about your sister and how talented you are. Not to mention that you also have beautiful eyes and skin  _and_  smile. All of which are really pleasant to look at.” She laughed, only then noticing the warmth that had crept over her cheeks – she wasn’t used to complimenting people like that; she wasn’t used to complimenting people  _at all_.

Florence laughed, too, but out of self-consciousness. She had never heard so many positive things about herself in a space of only a few seconds. Her stomach was churning again, in that way that tickled her, and this time she found the perfect comparison to what it felt like: it felt as though there were butterflies madly flapping their wings in her stomach. She tried to murder them by saying, “What about the obvious things? Like the enormous pair of wings on my back, for example.”

Isabella pretended to ponder for a moment, then shook her head and gave Florence’s hand a little squeeze. “I think they’re beautiful, too. But honestly, they’re not fascinating. I mean, the wings and the magic are what make you a  _fairy_. A fairy like any other. They’re not special, you know. So I’d rather look past all the things that make you a standard fairy and find what makes you  _you_. Do you understand?”

Florence didn’t answer. She couldn’t bring herself to speak because she was too busy fighting against those stupid butterflies that were frantically flapping their wings now, and trying to blink away the tears that were stinging her eyes.

But she failed miserably at both tasks because suddenly Isabella’s face was too close; too  _dangerously_ close. It felt as though the whole scene was happening in slow motion. She could perfectly see her big bluish-grey eyes getting closer and closer and suddenly her eyes wandered down Isa’s face and stared at her lips. She had never noticed how enticing they were before, but they were too close not to notice it now. They were full and inviting and as they got even closer, Florence unconsciously parted her own lips, as if waiting for Isa’s to press against them. And before she knew it, that thought was formed in her mind and it was too late to either stop it or kill it.

As if to torture her, though, Isabella stopped only a few inches away from her, and her eyes looked straight into Florence’s. “Are these tears that I see in your eyes?”

Florence jerked back to reality, releasing a breath she didn’t even know she had been holding. As a reaction to the sudden, forbidden emotion that had engulfed her, she pressed her hands to Isa’s chest and pushed her away, causing the blonde to fall onto the grass.

“No,” she hissed, standing up abruptly. “Don’t be stupid and don’t behave awkwardly again, Isabella. Dear God, have you forgotten your manners?!”

Isabella laughed, amused, sitting up on the grass, again. “Don’t be embarrassed,” she teased.

“Shut up!” Florence hissed again, not an aggressive hiss but a timid one. She turned her back to Isa, suddenly feeling uneasy.

Isabella noticed it and stood up, walking towards her. “I meant what I said; there’s no need to be embarrassed,  _Flo_. We’re friends.” Only when she finished her sentence did she notice the use of the nickname that had so easily slipped out of her mouth.

For a brief second she waited for a bad reaction from Florence, considering how she had acted the last time Isa had tried to get closer to her. But, to Isa’s surprise and relief, Florence just looked at her over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, are we?” Florence asked, amused and inwardly delighted. She couldn’t decide what she had liked more; the use of her nickname or the use of the word ‘ _friends_ ’. Or, perhaps, the fact that Isa had pretty much implied that such proximity was perfectly normal and acceptable between friends.

“Yes, we  _are_ ,” Isa confirmed, stopping beside her. There was a sparkle in Florence’s eyes that immediately made a smile spread across Isa’s lips.

“What an awkward friendship we have here, though,” Florence commented. “And supposedly  _forbidden_ , I must say.”

Isabella rolled her eyes, seeming suddenly annoyed. “I stopped caring about the meaning of that word a long time ago. I thought you had, too.”

Florence shrugged. “I probably have.” She paused for a moment. “Well,  _Isa_ ,” she said, savouring how sweet the name tasted on her tongue, “could we play something now? I believe I’m inspired.”

Isabella smiled. “Anytime.”


	9. The Other Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's another chapter of BTW! I hope you all had an amazing holidays, and I hope you're excited to know how this fic will end, since we're now getting closer to the end... (Though a lot of things are still to happen).  
> I really liked writing this chapter, because it plays with your imagination and I really like that. It's a bit fluffy (I guess), and slightly angsty, but bear with me please. Thank you Kate for betaing this, you're a doll <3 Thank you all for reading, I hope you like it :) Xxxx

  


Isabella stepped on the other side of the river two hours later than usual. Her parents had retired to their chambers later that evening, and Isabella had impatiently waited for the right moment to escape in order to not raise suspicion.

Florence was standing in front of the wall of thorns when Isabella approached her. Rob was sitting on her shoulder and both of them stared at Isa with a mischievous look.

“Why are you and the crow looking at me like that?” she asked.

“Why are you late?” Florence retorted. “You should have been here sooner. I have something planned for tonight.”

Isa made a face. “Sorry, Your Grace,” she taunted. “I’m here now, am I not? What have you planned, though?”

Florence smiled wickedly. “Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that after all these months you might be curious to see what’s on the other side of the wall, my dear Isa.”

Isa stayed still, not sure if she should say anything. Her eyes were fixed on Florence’s, expectantly waiting.

“Therefore,” Florence continued, “I’ve decided that you’re allowed to cross the wall of thorns, when in my company.”

Isabella’s heart skipped a beat and she took a step forward in excitement. “You’ll finally let me see what’s on the other side?” Isabella was surprised.

They had been seeing each other for about five and a half months now but, all things considered, everything happened quite fast. She had never really believed they would be close enough for Florence to let her in. She felt as though she had accomplished an impossible task. Although, the reason of her excitement and contentment wasn’t the fact that she was about to meet the Magical Realm, but the fact that she had gained Florence’s trust in the end.

“Yes, Isa.” Florence got closer to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Shall we go now?”

Isa nodded and Florence moved her hand, opening a small crack in the wall, just enough for them to cross it. Isabella held her breath as they walked side by side towards the entrance.

==

 _Surreal_. That was the word Isabella had found to best describe the scene she was seeing before her eyes. She had seen beautiful places in books and small trips with her parents, but she had never seen anything that could compare to  _this_.

Maybe it was just her incredulous, surprised eyes that were seeing things that weren’t exactly real, but the grass seemed greener, the trees seemed more vivid, the flowers more colourful and even the moonlight seemed brighter than on the other side. Or maybe it was just that all the things that turned her world grey – anger, betrayal, hatred, greed, etc – didn’t exist here. All the creatures were pure of heart, just like the mermaids Isabella used to play with and just like, well,  _Florence_.

She didn’t manage to make the broad smile on her face disappear as they walked through the forest towards a certain lake Florence had told her about a few times before. According to Florence, hundreds of mermaids lived there, and the plants that surrounded the lake were the prettiest in all the Realm.

She was, in fact, still saying something about the lake, but Isabella wasn’t really paying attention to it, her mind numb with such wonderfulness. Her eyes were darting from one thing to the other, trying to imprint every small detail in her mind – she wanted to make a sculpture of everything she could remember when she got back home.

“We’re here!” Florence announced, suddenly seeming more excited than Isabella, herself.

And just a quick glance at the lake proved that Florence had been right all along – the lake was breathtaking. Not the lake itself, but what surrounded it. There were small bugs flying around, but they weren’t ordinary bugs: every single one of them had a different colour and glowed in the dim light of the forest, like several small dots decorating the immensity of the meadow where the lake was located. Small animals, similar to armadillos, were peeking their small heads out of holes in the ground to spy on Isabella curiously. She could hear a few birds singing somewhere nearby but their singing got mixed up with that of the mermaid’s – hundreds of mermaids had swum to the surface to greet both Isa and Florence. And dreamily looking down at them, stood Florence; a goddess in the flesh.

“Look, look, Isa, look!” Florence cheered, pointing at the lake.

Even in a realm like that, Florence still managed to draw Isa’s attention. She walked over to her, commanded by a force stronger than herself, and wrapped her arms around Florence’s waist, burying her face in her chest. She heard Florence’s heart skip one, two beats and her breath catch in her throat before her arms curled around Isa, enveloping her in a hug. Then Isabella felt it, a sudden pang of pain in her chest – a pain that didn’t exactly hurt, but made it hard for her to breathe.

“Thank you, Flo,” she whispered, her voice muffled by the fabric of Florence’s dress.

Florence pulled away ever so slightly and slipped a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at her. “No; thank  _you_.”

They felt something cold and wet touching their skin then, realizing too seconds later that it had been the mermaids, playfully splashing water on them. They laughed, pulling away from each other but keeping their hands linked together.

“I think we should play with you, then,” Florence said, and Isa complied, sitting down on the grass and trying to direct her attention solely towards the mermaids and not get distracted by the soft touch of Florence’s hand on her wrist, or the sweet laugh she would let out sometimes, or the familiar warmth of her body pressed against her own.

==

“What you  _mean_  you don’t know how to swim?” Florence asked, incredulous. Her green eyes growing wide as her mouth hung open.

They were sitting opposite each other on the branch of a high three that surrounded the meadow – only a while after Isa’s first visit to the other side. Isabella wasn’t good at climbing trees for her limbs weren’t as long as Florence’s, but Flo had gladly helped her by wrapping an arm around her waist and flying up with her, carefully laying her on the branch. Predictably, she had made fun of Isa for not being able to climb, emphasizing that even  _she,_ who owned a pair of wings, was able to climb any tree. As if it wasn’t enough, Isabella had made the silly mistake of mentioning that she didn’t know how to swim, which had prompted yet another joke from Florence.

Isa sighed. “I wasn’t born in a place with a conveniently placed lake for me to swim.”

Florence laughed, her breath softly blowing the small sparkling dandelion that she was holding. The tiny petals flew towards Isa and tickled her nose.

“I could teach you. I’m really good at swimming. I’ve done it since I was little,” Florence proudly proclaimed.

Isabella rubbed the tip of her nose. “It’s a nice offer. Thank you, but I’m not sure about that.” Florence purposely blew the dandelion this time, so that the petals would tickle Isa again. “Stop it, will you,” Isa said with feigned anger, rubbing her nose again.

“For your information, my dear Isa, I used to have these small competitions with the little mermaids to see who swam faster and I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve won.”

Isabella nodded. “I bet they let you win,” she provoked.

Florence stuck out her tongue but suddenly burst into laughter. “This reminds me of another thing I used to do as a child,” she commented between laughs. “I’ve always wanted to breathe underwater like them, so I’d sit on the bottom of the lake and hold my breath for as long as I could in hopes that one day I would have lungs like theirs.” She rolled her eyes at her own words. “I nearly drowned myself countless times trying. I’d drive my mum mad because she would always think I  _had_  drowned.” Her voice broke at the end of her sentence and Isa could notice a shadow falling over her eyes, dimming their light.

Florence was no longer looking at her; she was looking at the sky instead, as if searching for something somewhere in the dark immensity of the night, somewhere beyond the stars and the moon, and probably beyond Isa’s understanding.

It was more than clear by now that an uninvited someone had crossed the limits of the forest and killed her family – Isabella hadn’t even had to ask to get to this conclusion. All she had had to do was carefully put the pieces together and solve the puzzle. The way Florence had reacted when they had first met, her reluctance in letting Isa get closer to her, the fear that was always creeping behind her eyes and shadowing her smile, her constant nervousness and insecurity when Isa was around her. All of that had made it pretty clear that _someone_  heartless and evil had done that to her family and bruised her, scarred her forever.

Isabella slowly stretched her legs so her ankles would touch Florence’s – she couldn’t touch her hand now, so she had to improvise. “You are very strong, you know that, right?” Florence’s eyes slowly wandered to Isa’s face and her lips stretched into a sad smile. Isa continued, “Taking care of your sister and yourself at such a young age isn’t easy, but you’re doing it really well. You should be proud of yourself.” A short pause. “I know I am.”

Florence felt something nagging in the pit of her stomach, felt the guilt rising inside her chest and in the back of her head, hitting the walls of her skull. She swallowed hard. “No I’m not… It’s not like I’m… It didn’t happen like you think it did. After my mother’s death, two years ago, I behaved…  _awfully_  for a while. I built this wall of thorns to keep people out but also to keep myself  _in_ , because everything on the other side just made me angry. I was just really angry all the time and hated everyone, except for my sister and Rob. It was awful and insane.” She ran her hand over her face to discreetly wipe the tears that were already welling in her eyes away.

Isabella leaned forward, forgetting for a moment that they were on a really high branch, and placed her hand on Florence’s knees, gently stroking them. “And that’s perfectly understandable. People get angry when they’re going through grief. But you’re a good person; I can see it when I look at you.” Isabella offered her a sympathetic smile and it only served to flame the guilt inside of her and make it burn her from the inside.

_If only you knew what I did two years ago, your opinion of me would change completely, my dear Isa._

Florence regretted that thought the moment it had echoed in her head. She didn’t know whether she was feeling guilty for what she had done or because she didn’t want Isa to dislike her and push her away. Her throat closed up and she gasped, realizing she was on the verge of a breakdown.

She gently took Isa’s hand off her knees and stood up on the branch, wrapping her arms around Isa’s waist so she could safely put her down on the ground. She reluctantly let go of her, her hands lingering on Isa’s body only for two seconds too long. The tips of her fingers slowly slipping off her waist, seeking for comfort, craving for help.

Isabella noticed it. Noticed it in her ragged breathing, in her aching gasps, on her shaking hands, in her restless eyes, in her quivering chin. So her hand curled around her wrist, holding her in place. Her arms opened to her and her voice gently, reassuringly whispered, “Come here.”

Had it been any other day, she would have said no. Had it been only a few weeks earlier, she would have pushed Isa away. Had it been only a few months ago, she would have sent her away. But today, right now, she gave in, gladly taking a few steps closer and sinking into Isa’s hold. Her long fingers digging into the fabric of Isa’s nightdress, her sobs being muffled by the soft skin of her exposed collarbone, her tears rolling freely down her face and onto Isa’s skin.

And they stayed like that until Florence’s sobs turned to faint sniffs and slowly died down. And for the first time in probably forever, Florence wished that the morning would never come.

==

Isabella arrived at the castle a little too late that morning. She hadn’t had the courage to leave Florence in that state in the forest, so she had stayed with her until the tears in her eyes had vanished away. She could, in fact, still smell Florence’s scent on her nightdress and on her own skin – she smelled like flowers and citrus fruits.

She had run faster than usual and had managed to get to the castle relatively early but not as early as she should have. She prayed to everything that was holy for her father not to be awake. She climbed up the stairs, feeling slightly relieved to find the rooms still empty and quiet. When she finally stepped in the corridor that led to her room, however, she found him standing in front of the door of her room – his rand on the doorknob and a furrow on his brow that could only indicate anger.

She felt the blood drain from her face and her stomach sunk, hitting the cold, hard floor of the castle. She contemplated running, but she knew it would only make things worse. She took a deep breath and forced her legs to move forward, while her brain tried to come up with a reasonable excuse as fast as it could.

“Oh, good morning, Father,” she said, surprised when her voice sounded more confident than she had expected.

The King snapped his head towards her, his entire face contorting into an angry grimace. “Isabella, where have you been? And don’t you  _dare_  lie to me!”

Isabella pretended to brush a strand of hair away from her forehead, trying to look as casual and innocent as possible. “I woke up a few hours ago and I couldn’t sleep again, Father. So I went to my maid’s chamber to ask for a warm mug of milk or something to help me sleep,” she explained. Then she added, almost sassily, “Where  _else_  could I have been?”

The King narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw, his long, thick fingers angrily rubbing his temples. He took a few steps closer to her and Isabella tensed up a little, afraid that her father would smell Florence’s scent on her.

“You shall not do this again. You shall wait for your maid to come to your room and  _then_  request what you may. Am I clear?”

Isabella nodded, nervously. “Yes, Father. I’m sorry.”

It was really hard for her to play the fragile, scared, repentant little girl, but this time she was really afraid that her father might find out that she had been escaping. Not afraid of what he might do to her, but afraid that she might not be able to escape anymore, which would mean that she wouldn’t be able to see Florence anymore. And  _that_ was the thing that she was most afraid of.

Her father gripped her shoulder with one hand and dragged her towards the door of her room, bursting it open and pushing her rudely into it. “Wait for your maid here. I’ll see you at the breakfast table in a few hours,” he ordered and slammed the door shut behind him.

Isabella breathed in and out, bringing a hand to her chest and letting herself fall onto her bed. Relieved, she slipped under the covers and curled her body into a ball, smiling foolishly when Florence’s scent invaded her lungs. Then a sad, sour thought crossed her mind and her smile vanished from her face. For a few days, she could not, for the life of her, go to the forest to see Florence.


	10. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Florence has a surprise for Isabella...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter!!!!! And I finally came up with a summary lol I have good news for you all: Kate, our lovely beta-reader, told me she'll probably send me three chapters this week, meaning I'll be able to post one chapter a week for at least three weeks :D  
> Anyway, I think this is a lovely chapter. I hope you guys like it and thank you for reading :) Xxxxx

  
  
  
  


“What about you?”

“ _What about_  me?”

Florence let the air out through her nose. “Tell me about _you_. I feel like we mostly talk about me. It’s unnerving me.”

They were walking through the forest, towards the lake – their new favourite place – and even though Isa couldn’t perfectly see Florence’s face from this angle, she was sure she was making a grimace. She also knew what that sudden comment implied: that Florence was still feeling bad for what had happened two weeks ago. It had happened only once but Isa had already been capable of noticing the inner battle that occurred inside of Florence between needing someone to comfort her and hating her need for help at the same time. The fact that she had cried in Isa’s arms that night was probably still plaguing her.

Isa reached for her hand in the darkness. “Flo, we’ve talked about this already. There’s no need to feel bad for what happened.”

Florence nodded absently. “But you didn’t come here for  _two weeks_ ,” she pouted.

Isa rolled her eyes. “We’ve also talked about this. I told you my father saw me outside of my room, Flo. I didn’t want him to find out so I decided to spend the following nights in. I thought you had understood.” And it wasn’t like they saw each other every single night, anyway. Isa knew Florence was just being dramatic.

It had been hard to stay in the castle for two entire weeks, though. Isabella was so used to going to the forest and spending time with Florence, that the ludicrously huge and bustling castle had seemed strangely small, quiet, and empty for her.

Florence sighed. “I  _did_. But I’d love to hear a little more about you.” They were almost arriving at the meadow now.

“We’ve already talked about me a few times and, honestly, I don’t think there’s anything interesting left to say. My life is quite boring.”

“Now who’s being pessimistic,” Florence deadpanned, glancing at Isa out of the corner of her eye.

“It’s true, though. I was raised by parents who don’t really care about me because they always have something more important to think about than their own daughter. My mother tries to care, sometimes. She’s always been more loving than my father. He only truly cares about himself and his—” Isa trailed off, swallowing the word ‘ _kingdom_.’ Florence didn’t know her father was the king, and she still wasn’t ready to have that conversation. “His personal matters. So since I didn’t have anyone to talk to, besides my servants, who’d always agree with me because they  _had_  to, I decided to focus on art and music.” She paused. “See? Nothing interesting.”

“Wow,” Florence pondered. “Someone seriously hates her life.”

Isabella laughed lightly. “I  _don’t_ , though. My life isn’t the problem: my  _father_  is. I think things would have been completely different if my mother hadn’t chosen  _him_  as her husband.”

“And  _why_  did she choose him, then?”

“She says he was different when they met. He was caring and smart and kind; a true gentleman. But…  _things_ got the in the way, I guess. People change and not always for the better.”

The things that had gotten in the way, in this case, had been  _money_  and  _power_ , Isa was well aware of it. The obsession her father had developed to become the richest, most powerful king of that kingdom had slowly driven him mad, and had torn her family apart in the process. Her mother had found out later that he had never really liked her; he had always just loved her money and her title. But then it was too late; Isabella had already been born and the Queen had decided not to make things worse and to just go on with her life, carrying on with her marriage.

Isabella had heard that story only once: the first time her father had tried to convince her to get married soon, when she was only 18. Her mother had told her that, as well, and had advised her to choose wisely. There was only one small problem that she had wanted to tell her mother, but had kept to herself: she didn’t  _want_  a husband. And  _thank god_  her title gave her the right to choose whom she wanted to marry. She wouldn’t have coped with the pressure of a forced marriage.

Florence could hear the annoyance in Isabella’s voice. She gave her hand a little squeeze. “There’s no such thing as a perfect life, I suppose.”

 _Maybe not a perfect life, but there were perfect_ moments _in life._  And Isabella could pretty much say that the nights she spent with Florence were one of these few moments. And she was glad there were many more to come.

She smiled contently. “What are we going to do tonight?”

Florence lifted a hand to tug at her hair. “Well, I was planning on teaching you to swim,” she teased, poking Isa’s arm with her finger. “But after this conversation about family I was thinking that, maybe, we could to go my house and I could introduce you to my sister...?”

Isabella stopped and Florence lurched back, almost bumping into Isa. Florence was about to ask what had happened when the look on Isa’s face answered her; she was just surprised with the sudden invitation. It had been kind of unexpected for Florence, too. But Grace had been insisting too much lately and she knew that if she didn’t do it quickly, her sister would forget her good manners and end up following her to the forest. She didn’t want  _that_ to happen, so she had decided to properly invite Isa.

“I mean; would you like to go to my house and meet my sister?” she asked, feeling slightly uneasy. She had never had people over. This was odd, exciting and nerve-wracking all at once.

Isabella smiled again, feeling a little uneasy herself. “I’d love to.”

==

Florence’s house wasn’t so far from the meadow where the lake was located, but they had to walk for a good thirty minutes. Florence had considered offering to carry Isabella in her arms and flying with her but then she just concluded that the blonde might not feel very comfortable with the idea – considering that she hadn’t felt comfortable sitting on that high branch with Flo the other night.

The Welch’s new house sat in the middle of the forest, in a place surrounded by trees. It occurred to Isabella that they had only managed to keep a house in that place because they could use magic to trim the grass, or it would have swallowed their house already. The outside of the house, however, was simple and beautiful. It had been painted white and had a few details in dark brown. It was nothing like the giant castle Isa was accustomed to and yet it felt a lot more comforting than her own house.

Rob was standing on the porch like one of the guards that watched the gates of the castle. His serious face stretched into a smile when his sympathetic eyes fell on Florence. Then he frowned slightly as he noticed Isa’s presence beside her.

“You went out to meet your friend and came back with an abandoned animal,” Rob taunted with a mischievous grin.

Isabella gave him her best  _‘dare say it again’_ smile and Florence laughed. The sweet, musical tone of her laugh tickled inside Isa’s chest.

“Oh, Bobby, she’s not the one who is originally an animal, is she?” said Florence, sassily. Rob just narrowed his eyes at her. “Thank you for watching my house. You’re free to go now.” She waved her hand and watched as the crow flew away from her house.

“Why does he always come back?” Isabella asked out of curiosity.

Florence shrugged. “Let’s say we have a mutual interest in helping each other,” she smiled. “Shall we go inside now?”

Isa nodded and Florence led her inside.

==

The inside of the house was even more simple, beautiful, and comforting. Everything was made of wood – the table, the cupboard, the chairs, the door, the walls,  _everything_. The door opened to quite a large room that was half a kitchen and half a living room. Two small wooden couches lay opposite each other with a coffee table in the middle. Four plates and four mugs sat on the counter near the sink – even after her parent’s death, Florence still liked to have four of each thing, as if to keep their memory alive. Between the kitchen and the living room, a corridor led to three other rooms, which Isabella concluded were Florence’s and Grace’s chambers and a room that was probably used for bathing.

Florence closed the door behind her and called out, “Gracie! I’m home and we have company.”

Grace poked her head out of the door of her room and her eyes widened as she saw Isabella standing awkwardly beside Florence. She walked towards them, trying to contain her excitement. Isabella just kept her eyes fixed on the blonde girl that was approaching them.

“So, I’m guessing this is Isabella?” Grace said, her eyes darting from Isa to her sister.

Florence nodded. “Congratulations for concluding it this fast, Gracie,” she joked, then turned to Isa. “This is my little sister, Grace.”

Isabella blinked twice. When Florence had said that she had a  _little_  sister, Isabella had imagined someone way smaller than the girl who was standing in front of her. But the truth was that Grace was almost Florence’s height.

“Oh, it’s great to finally meet you, Isabella. I’ve heard  _so much_  about you!” Grace cheered, leaning in and enveloping Isabella in a brief yet warm hug.

Florence frowned, looking down at Isa. “She’s exaggerating. I haven’t talked about you that much.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “But, Flossie,  _all those_  adjectives you used to describe her were very well used. She’s really beautiful.”

Florence felt the rush of blood in her cheeks. “Alright, now she’s  _really_  exaggerating. Don’t believe a word she says.”

Isabella laughed lightly. She couldn’t believe she had been so nervous about this meeting just a few minutes ago. Grace was just as nice and graceful as her sister.

Florence, on the other hand, was still feeling slightly ill at ease and uncomfortable with this whole conversation. Grace made to speak again but Flo interrupted her. “Would you like something, Isabella? Some tea, maybe?”

“Tea would be great, thank you.”

Grace nodded. “Yeah, she’s really good at making tea. She’s terrible at cooking, though. She thinks she’s awesome, but she’s just rubbish.”

Florence slapped her sister’s arm lightly. “I’ve been feeding you for the past two years, you ungrateful nymph.” Grace laughed at her sister’s meant-to-be-an-insult reply. “Now why don’t you do something useful and—”

“You’re right,” Grace cut in. “While you prepare our tea, I’ll show Isabella around.” She proclaimed, gripping Isa’s wrist and dragging her towards the corridor.

==

The house was really small, so there wasn’t much to be seen. Grace showed Isabella her chamber and the third room at the end of the corridor – which proved Isa’s assumption was right –, and then finally led Isabella to Florence’s chamber.

“It’s a little disorganized,” Grace said, opening the door. “I hope you don’t mind.”

It wasn’t disorganized, exactly; it was just  _unusually_  decorated. There were colourful pennants hanging from the ceiling and dresses hanging everywhere around the room. A pile of books lay beside her bed, most of which Isabella had given her during the past months. A dressing table sat in front of her bed and a few more books, three flower crowns, a notebook, and the sculpture Isa had given her rested on it. There was some other stuff scattered all over the room, too. Like jars with what seemed to be paper dolls inside, candles, candlesticks, a few teacups oddly placed on top of books and a few more jars with flowers in them.

Isabella looked around in delight, a broad smile on her face. “I find it quite interesting,” she commented, walking to the centre of the room.

Grace shrugged. “Her room used to be more disorganized in our old house. She had collected all those…  _things_  during her young years and we didn’t have enough space to keep all of them in. Unfortunately, most of that was burned in the fire.”

Isabella nearly flinched at the word. “Fire?” she asked, facing Grace. “What fire?”

Grace stayed mute for a second and then nodded to herself, moving to sit at the foot of the bed. “Of course she hasn’t told you. She doesn’t like to talk about it not even to me.” She sighed. “I’m referring to the fire that killed our mother.” Grace didn’t want to elaborate further; she didn’t feel like she was in position to do so.

Understanding flickered in Isa’s eyes and she looked at Grace apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Grace smiled at her.

Isabella turned to the dressing table, then, and her eyes immediately set on the wooden sculpture. Unconsciously, she touched it with the tips of her fingers, tracing the outline of the sculpture. A smile tugged at her lips.

“Flo loves it,” Grace commented. “You’re really talented, by the way.”

Isa chuckled. “Thank you, Grace. But I honestly just practiced a lot growing up.”

“It’s amazing, though,” Grace assured her. “Flo and I only practiced magic growing up. Well, she also practiced singing, of course.”

Isa laughed lightly, her hand wandering to the notebook that lay near the sculpture. It had a green cover and Flo had written  _‘Florence fucking hates you’_ on it. She furrowed her brow, holding back another laugh. Grace let out a strained snort behind her.

“After the incident she had a  _phase_.”

“Oh, she told me about it,” said Isa, almost proudly, turning around to face Grace. “The  _Angry Phase_.”

“Yes,” she answered, wrinkling her nose. “But she’s better now. I mean, I guess being friends with you has been really good for her.”

Isabella felt something warm blooming in her chest, making the smile on her face grow wider. “It’s been really good for me, too.”

Her words had been true. She wasn’t feeling constantly upset anymore. On the contrary: she had been feeling relaxed and peaceful. No matter how bad of a day she might have had, the thought of seeing Florence at night would instantly make her feel better.

Grace had noticed the same about her sister. Florence would spend her days reading the books Isabella brought to her, only stopping to have a few hours of sleep before running to meet Isabella again. Grace would have disliked the sudden change in her sister’s routine, and consequently in the amount of time they spent together, if the happiness in Florence’s face wasn’t so obvious and the subtle, yet important changes in her weren’t notable. But it was the first time Grace was seeing Florence genuinely smile ever since their mother’s death, and that was enough to fill her chest with similar happiness.

“Has she mentioned anything about what she might be doing next weekend?” Grace asked, standing up.

Isabella pondered for a moment, bringing a finger to her lips. “Oh yes! She said she couldn’t see me next weekend because she had made plans with you.”

Grace sighed deeply. “ _Of course_  she didn’t tell you the truth,” she said, more to herself than to Isa. Isabella blinked twice, trying to understand what she meant. Grace took a few steps closer and whispered, as if she was telling Isa a secret, “It’s her birthday. There’s no need to feel disappointed, though. After what happened to our mother, she stopped celebrating her birthday. We celebrate mine, but never hers.”

Isa’s throat closed up for some reason and she swallowed several times before answering, “I understand.”

“I’m just telling you this because I thought you’d like to know? I don’t know. Perhaps give her something special?” Grace incited, smiling broadly.

Isabella stayed silent for a moment, unsure what she should say. But then an idea made itself present on Isa’s mind and it sounded so good that Isabella complied, smiling. “Sure. I’ll give her something special.”

“Thank you, Isa,” Grace said, cheerfully.

The sound of the door opening made the two of them aware of Florence’s presence.

“What are you two talking about?” Flo asked, walking towards them.

“I was just telling Isa that you were taking too long to make that goddamn tea,” Grace teased, turning around to face her sister.

“For your information, I was also preparing a fruit salad,” announced Florence, proudly.

“Um, no fire involved. So it’s safe to eat,” said Grace before running out of the room.

Florence got closer to Isa and instinctively interlaced their fingers. “I hope she didn’t say anything that might have embarrassed me,” she moaned on the verge of a whine.

Isa shook her head. “No. She’s just as sweet as you.”

Florence squeezed her hand in response. “Let’s join Grace at the table now, shall we?”

As they stepped into the kitchen, they found Rob sitting on the windowsill and a rather excited Grace serving herself fruit salad into a small bowl. The crow made a loud noise and Florence made a face at him, waving her hand and turning him into the tall, quite handsome man Isabella was more used to seeing.

“Wow!” Isa exclaimed, sitting down in the chair beside Florence. “I think I’ll never get used to it.”

“The magic?” asked Rob, taking a seat beside Grace, who promptly poured him some tea from the teapot that sat on the table in front of her bowl.

“No; the  _transformation_. I mean, you’re so small when you’re in your crow form and so… giant when you’re in your human form,” she explained, putting a small piece of apple in her mouth.

“Everything is gigantic to you, Isabella. The parameters of your body are really  _small_.”

Florence laughed loudly, shoving a full strawberry into her mouth. “I have to agree with that.”

Isabella narrowed her eyes at them but laughed anyway, her chest filling with joy and happiness. They spent the night there, reunited around the table talking and joking, the sound of their voices echoing in the room along with their laughs. Even though it was the first time they were all together like that, the conversation flowed naturally and felt so intimate that it surprised all of them.

Isabella concluded that that was what a dinner should look like: everyone talking and having a nice time together. Not an agonizing silence accompanied by the dull noise of forks hitting the plate as they ate their dishes with the occasional discussion about the problems the King and Queen had had to resolve the next day.

For the first time in her entire life, Isa felt like she belonged somewhere. More than that: she felt like she was part of a  _family_.


	11. The Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Tan and I really like this chapter, guys. What happens here wasn't planned at all! I had something else in mind, but when I was working on the chapter the characters led me to write it this way, so here it is ;) I hope you like it too! And if you ever feel like sharing your opinion with us, you're more than welcome <3 Thank you all for reading Xxxx

  
  
  
  


Florence was impatiently walking from one side to the other in front of the river, her eyes looking into the complete darkness that was the other side, without getting any glimpse of Isabella’s silhouette. Isa had asked her to meet her tonight because she needed to talk to her about something. And even though Flo had made it pretty clear that she had had plans with her sister, Isa had insisted that she would be quick. Florence sighed, growing impatient with every passing second.

Then she heard something approaching the river and impatience was replaced by a calm sensation that so easily spread through her, causing a smile to form on her lips.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Isa apologised, breathless from her running. “I was finishing something.”

Florence waved her hand in the air, as if saying it didn’t matter. “What do you need to talk to me about? Please be quick, I need to meet Grace.”

Isabella smoothed her nightdress and ran her fingers through her hair, just in case it was a mess. She took a last deep breath and nodded. “Well, there’s nothing I need to say, actually. It’s something I have to  _give_ you.”

Florence raised an eyebrow at her, straightening her shoulders. “What is it that you need to give? I’m still finishing the last book you gave me.”

Isa shook her head, tucking her hand into the small pocket of her cape. “It’s not a book this time,” she smiled, her hand curling around the small silk bag inside her pocket. She pulled it out and Florence’s eyes easily found it between her hands. “This is… umm, a  _gift_.”

Florence blinked twice. “What for?”

Isa smiled tenderly, stretching her hands towards Florence. “Happy birthday, Flo.”

Florence nearly choked on her own saliva, her eyes widening. “What?! How do you…?” Then it kicked her and she rolled her eyes, nodding to herself. “Grace.”

Isa laughed, tightening her grip around the bag. “Yeah, she told me it was your birthday, and I thought it would be nice if I gave you something.”

Florence offered her an apologetic smile. Her long fingers curled around Isa’s small hands, gently pushing them to Isa’s chest. “I’m flattered, but I’m afraid I can’t accept it, Isa.”

Isa’s face fell a little. “Of course you can. I made it especially for you.” Flo made to speak, but Isa interrupted her. “Also, it would be  _impolite_  to simply refuse it.”

Florence bit her bottom lip so hard that she was afraid it might draw blood. Her hand ruffled and tugged at her hair, uneasily. Isa just stared at her, patiently waiting for her to finally accept the gift.

Accepting it was against everything Florence had promised she would leave behind her two years ago. She had cursed that girl on the day of her birthday, and had lost her mother the day before. It seemed so wrong – not to mention quite rude – to keep celebrating her birthday when two innocent people had tragically paid for someone else’s mistakes. It didn’t feel like a celebration – it rather felt like she was worshiping the doom.

But Isabella – the sweet, kind, lovely and hot-tempered Isabella – was standing right in front of her now, asking her to accept whatever it was that she had made for her. And it would also be rather rude to turn her back and walk away.

She silenced all the voices that were screaming  _‘no’_  in her head and reluctantly took the black silk bag from Isa’s hand. She stared at it for a brief moment before untying the knot and slipping her hand inside the bag. Her fingers curled around something small and pulled it out. It was another sculpture, but a larger and more detailed one this time. It consisted of Rob, Grace, Florence and Isa herself, standing side by side holding hands. Isa had had the time to finish the work this time – she had painted it and added all the small details to it. Right below their feet, Isa had written “ _family_.” The world symbolised not only Isa’s feelings towards the people in the sculpture, but also Florence’s. She had told Isa once that Grace was the only family she had; this gift proved her wrong. She had a family of her own now – no matter how unusual this family might look to others.

She felt tears stinging her eyes but she managed to quickly blink them away. The smile on her face, though, grew wider, reaching a spot deep, deep inside her.

“Did you like it?” Isa asked, taking a step closer.

Florence tried to find the right words to describe her gratitude, searching in all the hidden corners of her brain, but she failed miserably. So she just pulled Isa in, wrapping her arms around her and tenderly resting her head on top of Isa’s. Isabella smiled against Florence’s chest, relishing the intimate contact and the sweet scent of her skin.

“Thank you, Isa,” Florence whispered into her hair. “Thank you so much.” She pulled Isa away ever so slightly and added, “Would you like to join us in our small reunion at my house?”

Isa needed a moment to catch her breath before answering: “Of course I would!”

==

Tea, raspberry cake, Flo singing and jokes: that’s what summarised Florence’s small birthday party during the night. It hadn’t been anything big, and yet it had been so special for her. For the first time since the incident, she had allowed herself to celebrate this date, and she owed this to Isa and Grace.

Two hours before the sunrise, she left her house with Isa and they both walked back to the river, side by side. It was nice how she could just walk silently beside Isabella and not feel that it was awkward. She could just enjoy her presence without the constant need of conversation to keep her interest going. And if the smile plastered on Isa’s face was anything to go by, she could say Isa felt the same way.

“Thank you again for the night and for the gift, Isa. I actually had a nice time,” said Flo when they stopped by the river.

“You’re welcome. And, you know, we could do the same next year,” she incited. Florence raised an eyebrow at her but a smile crept over her lips.

An unexpected wind bit their skin and Isa crossed her arms tightly against her chest in an attempt to keep herself warm. Florence, on the other hand, just felt a cold shiver travel down her spine and goose bumps erupt over her body – her wings did a good job at protecting her from the cold.

“When the winter comes, I’m afraid I won’t be able to spend the nights in the forest anymore,” Isa commented, her bottom lip quivering.

Florence frowned. “Don’t be silly. We can stay in if you’d like to, but I can protect you from the cold, you know.” She unfurled her wings and took a few steps closer to Isa, her hands tenderly gripping Isa’s wrists and pulling her in.

Isabella gladly welcomed the warmth that was radiating from her body, resting her head on Flo’s chest and closing her eyes, her arms instinctively wrapping around Florence’s waist. Flo slipped her arms around Isa in response, pulling her slightly closer, and wrapped her wings around them both.

The air caught in Isa’s throat, then, and her heart quickened; she could hear it pounding in her ears. Or perhaps she was just listening to Florence’s almost frantic heartbeats, as it pulsed right under her head. She wondered for a moment how being in the arms of that creature could feel more like home than sitting at the table with her parents every night.

_What do you do when your house isn’t home?_

She looked up at Florence. Her marble face was just inches away from hers and her bright green eyes were the shade of emeralds and were staring right into Isa’s, her lips quickly stretching into a flawless smile and then parting to let the air out through them, tickling Isa’s skin. Isa held her breath, biting her bottom lip.

Isabella couldn’t measure how wrong the feeling was that engulfed her now – the feeling that had been quietly growing inside her over the past months and that had silently reached every corner of her, taking root in that one beating muscle in her chest and claiming it as its home. She was not supposed to feel it. She was not  _allowed_  to feel it for that un-human woman that stood right in front of her. And yet she couldn’t stop that feeling now.

They were breathing each other’s breaths. Florence clenched the fabric of Isa’s nightdress, trying desperately to brush off the realisation that, once again, she wanted to feel Isa’s lips against hers, again she wanted to know what they tasted like. Her thoughts were going further and suddenly it hit her that Isa’s lips weren’t the only things she wanted – she wanted _all_  of her. She wanted to touch and kiss every accessible part of her body and have Isa do the same to her. She wanted Isa in every way possible.

But it could  _never_  happen. Their friendship alone was already a mistake; something else would be just a stupid sin. So Florence pulled away slightly, still holding Isa’s glare.

“Are you warmer now?” Florence said faintly, her voice muffled and strangled, as if speaking was too difficult a task.

Isa blinked twice, being abruptly pulled back to reality by Florence’s voice. “Yes I… I better get going now, Flo. I don’t want my father to catch me again.”

Florence nodded briskly and let go of her, taking a few steps back. Isa didn’t know whether it was the weather getting considerably and unexpectedly cold or just the absence of Flo’s arms around her that made her shiver harder than before.

“I’ll see you in a few days,” she said and then, giving in to that too strong feeling inside of her, grabbed Florence by the shoulders and pulled her in, pressing her lips to Florence’s.

For a moment, Florence couldn’t feel anything, just a soft, warm touch on her lips. But then, suddenly, she could feel  _everything_. She could feel her heart pounding so fast and hard it felt as though it was about to tear her ribs open and fall on the ground in front of her. She could feel Isa’s nails digging into the skin of her shoulders, her fingers pressing and gripping. She could feel the electricity between her body and Isa’s, so strong that it was almost tangible. And she could perfectly feel the sweet taste of Isa’s lips against hers, feel her tongue teasing her bottom lip, sending shivers through her body, making her head spin.

She wanted to pull Isa away and tell her it was insane, tell her it was wrong in every way possible and that they shouldn’t – they  _must not_  – do it. But she wasn’t strong enough to let go of her now that she finally had her; if only for a few seconds. So her hands moved on their own, one cupping her face and the other holding her hips, pulling her closer.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like hours and yet Florence knew that eternity wouldn’t have been enough. Too soon, Isa’s hands let go of her shoulders and her small body slipped away from her touch. Flo opened her eyes slowly, meeting Isa’s bluish-grey ones – but right now they glowed almost silver in the moonlight.

“Isa,” Flo started, her voice quiet and weak, “what was—”

“Shhh,” Isa said, bringing a finger to her own lips, signalling for Flo to be quiet. “Let’s just leave it as it is, alright?”

It took Florence two seconds too long to answer, and her reply was only a brisk nod of the head. She didn’t even know what that had been, exactly. Part of her wanted to believe Isa had feelings for her, but part of her knew she had probably only done that in the heat of the moment. Either way, at least Florence would have something to hold on to from now on.

A smile tugged at Isa’s lips. “Happy birthday again, Flo,” she said. Then she turned on her heels and ran back to her castle without even looking back, leaving Flo with the vivid sensation of her lips on hers.


	12. The Obstacle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The afterwards of their kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay first of all, how dead are you after the release of WKOM?? Seriously, how great are the song and music video? Florence never fails to amaze me :')  
> Secondly, I forgot to update the fic last week because of the release of WKOM (sue me because I'm irresponsible lol). But here it is: another chapter! I hope you guys like it and thank you all for reading :) Xxxx  
> PS: I changed the lyrics on purpose for it to fit the story better; it's not a typo ;)  
> Oh, and thank you Kate for being a great person and betaing this for us <333

  
  
  


“No!” Isabella shouted standing up, slamming her hands on the table. “You cannot force me to do it, Father. You can’t and you won’t!”

The King stood up, too, his dead eyes peering into hers with such anger it made her blood freeze in her veins. “We’ve had this discussion before, Isabella. You’re already a woman and you’ve been delaying this moment for too long. It’s time for you to choose a husband and you shall do it!”

“No, I won’t!” Isabella retorted.

They had had that conversation before, hundreds of times in the past years and at least a dozen times in the past two months. Now that her 26th birthday was coming, her father’s anger and anxiety was growing stronger and more severe, forcing him to shout at her, grab her by the arms and shake her, almost violently, trying his best to put some sense into her head. But nothing he tried seemed to have any effect on her – her decision would remain the same: she didn’t want to get married.

Her mother was never around to see any of these discussions, except for this time. Right now, she was sitting opposite the King at the table, her hands resting on her lap and her eyes focused on the plate in front of her without really seeing anything. Her expression was impassible as she heard the shouts and yells around her.

“I’m hosting a ball this weekend, and you shall choose a prince this time. Am I understood?” the King barked between gritted teeth.

Isabella ran a hand over her face and through her hair, nervously. “Then do it. Do it, Father. Host a ball like you’ve done hundreds of times before and I shall attend to it. I shall look at every man’s face and at the end of the night I shall ignore their presence and pretend nothing happened like I, too, have done hundreds of times before. You shall only force me to marry someone I hold no affection for over my dead body!”

“You respect your  _king_ , Isabella!” her father retorted, marching around the table towards her, his fists clenched.

Isabella closed her eyes bracing herself for what was about to come. And for a brief moment she waited for the hand to hit her face, she waited for the burning pain, for the taste of blood in her mouth, for shame and anger to swallow what was left of her self-control.  She waited, but nothing came; nothing but the loud sound of the Queen’s voice echoing in the room as she shouted with authority and confidence, surprising both the King and Isabella:

“Enough!” She pushed her chair back and stood up, her hand hitting the glass of wine that lay beside her plate, making it fall on the floor with a dull thud. “Enough of this shouting. We’re not animals for God’s sake! And don’t you dare…” She walked towards the King, her hands grabbing her dress and pulling it slightly upwards so that it wouldn’t drag on the floor. “…Don’t you dare raise a hand to her ever again or I swear to the life of me that it will be last time you have hands.”

Isabella opened her eyes again, directing her attention to her mother, only. The Queen’s eyes were burning with anger but it didn’t stop the King from retorting with equal authority:

“She disrespected her king.” His fists were clenched so tightly that Isa could perfectly see his knuckles turning white.

“Before you are the king of this kingdom you are her  _father_. So maybe you should try treating her like someone who is blood of your blood and not one of your servants.” The King gritted his teeth but didn’t dare say anything else. The Queen turned her head to face her daughter, who was standing beside her almost paralyzed. “You go to your room, Isabella. I’ll speak to you later.”

Being brought back to reality by her mother’s words, Isa shot her father one last death glare and excused herself from the dining room, following her mother’s orders and going to her room.

==

Isa’s maid had already helped her into her nightdress and brushed her hair when the Queen knocked on the door lightly. The maid walked to the door and opened it, quietly excusing herself from the room to give Mother and Daughter some privacy.

Isabella was sitting on the edge of her bed, her eyes fixed on her mother, who was now getting closer to the bed, stopping beside her. The Queen’s tender eyes looked into her daughter’s and her hand reached out to touch her chin lightly.

“So, sweetheart, now that we’re alone, how about we have an honest conversation. Tell me why you always fight with your father and me every time we try to convince you to choose someone to marry?”

Isabella felt her stomach churn and averted her eyes from her mother. She couldn’t understand where this sudden interest in her life had come from, but she didn’t like it. Worse than having her feelings ignored by her parents her whole life was being forced to talk about things she didn’t want to when she only wanted to run away from that bloody castle to see Florence –  _she_  would bring peace to her heart again.

She took a deep breath, moving her face away from her mother’s touch ever so slightly. “Simply because a husband isn’t something that is supposed to be chosen, Mother. Shouldn’t it just happen naturally?”

The Queen gave Isabella an apologetic smile, linking her hands together before her body. “ _Theoretically_ speaking, yes. But you know this rule doesn’t apply to some—”

“And  _why_  are you suddenly so interested in talking to me, Mother?” Isa cut in, standing up abruptly and walking away from her mother towards the window. “You and Father never seemed to care anyway. If you’re doing this to talk me into this forced marriage, then you’re wasting your time.”

The Queen shook her head, sitting down on the place that Isa had occupied just a few seconds ago. “Isabella, sweetie, I know I have never been the perfect example of a good mother, but…” She stopped, waiting for Isa to turn her head just enough to glance at her over her shoulder. “I’m trying to do something nice for once and understand what is going on inside your head. It would be good if you could cooperate. Perhaps we could have a nice conversation for once.”

Isabella sighed, turning her head to the window again. She could see the top of the trees in the Magical Realm from here. She wondered if Florence was waiting for her to come see her tonight; wondered if, right now, she was longing for Isa’s company just as much as Isa was longing for hers; wondered if Florence would come and take her away from that castle, if she was given the chance. Her hands closed around the fabric of her nightdress, clutching it tightly.

“I don’t want to end up in the same situation as you, Mother: trapped in a life you don’t want to live, with someone you don’t love.”

The Queen frowned, seeming upset. “What’s the reason for this sudden fascination with  _love_ , Isabella?” she inquired, her voice slightly coated in reproach. “I thought you didn’t believe in such a foolish thing.”

“I  _didn’t_!” she snapped before she could stop the words from slipping out of her mouth. They left a sour taste on her tongue, though, and she swallowed several times to get rid of it, but the taste remained there, tingling and digging and making her sick.

The Queen stood, alarmed by her daughter’s words. Isabella turned around, praying to god that her mother wouldn’t notice the clear despair on her face.

“I don’t,” she corrected, but she knew it was two seconds too late. Her mother looked at her quizzically and she opened her mouth twice before the words finally came out: “I don’t know what I want to believe anymore, Mother.”

The Queen took a few steps closer, her eyes still fixed on Isa’s face, the look burning Isa’s skin, making her breaths become ragged and her pulse start to race. She had forgotten what it felt like to be trapped in her own reality. During those months she had been spending with Florence, she had almost successfully convinced herself that she could live like that forever, fooling her parents and escaping to the forest to live the life she had grown to like and appreciate. Now, however, the world was again closing in on her in a way it had never done before. It felt as though she was trapped in a room with moving walls that were getting closer and closer to her body with every word she or her mother said, and she knew sooner or later those walls would just smash her between them, cracking her bones and hopes and dreams. Then she wondered if losing her would break Florence as much as losing Florence would break her.

And for a brief second there, she wondered why the hell Florence had been on her mind for the whole night ever since that bloody discussion had started. But her mother’s voice interrupted her wonderings.

“Isa, darling, is there any  _plausible_  reason for you to be avoiding this inevitable moment?”

Isabella didn’t answer. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything; her mind was buzzing and her head spinning and the only thing she could hear was the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.

“Have you met  _someone_  that I don’t know about?” the Queen insisted, studying her daughter’s reaction, knowing for sure that she was really close to the core of the matter – what she didn’t know, though, was that she was about to hit a raw nerve.

“I’m right, am I not?  _Who_  is he, Isabella? You be honest with me and give him a name!”

“There’s no  _man_ , Mother!” she shouted, losing all her balance. “There’s no man and there will never be one. I  _don’t want_  a husband!”

The room was drowned in silence as the Queen let Isa’s words sink in and make sense to her. Isabella, on the other hand, was trying to fight back the tears that now threatened to fill her eyes. Whatever happened from now on, she could not – for the life of her – let her mother know about her escaping and Florence. She had to protect her at all costs.

But instead of bursting into screaming, the Queen let out a light, strained laugh. Her face stretched into a sympathetic smile, softening her features. Isa stood still, waiting.

“Oh, I see,” the Queen reflected. “So the actual problem is that you don’t want a  _husband_.”

Isabella blinked twice, taking in the information that she had just pretty much exposed to her mother that she had no interest in men. She felt the rush of blood in her cheeks and the sweat on her hands. She hated it – she just hated everything right now: the fact that she had been born in a royal family; that she was being forced to marry someone she didn’t love; that her parents never really cared enough about her or her feelings; that her mother had just cruelly ripped the truth out of her; and that she was feeling so stupidly exposed, fragile, and humiliated all at once. Like the softest of words could open a crack in her and tear her apart. And she hated feeling vulnerable more than anything in the world.

The smile on the Queen’s face vanished then, and she took few steps back and away from her daughter, instead of trying to comfort her.

“I’m afraid I can’t do anything about it, darling,” she stated almost bitterly. “You shall marry a man and a good one. We can arrange a false wedding, though, just to keep up appearances. But rules are rules and you ought to follow them, like all other women have done before you.”

Isabella didn’t dare say anything – not because she agreed with her mother but because she was afraid she might just spit her heart out if she even opened her mouth now. So she clenched her fists even harder, her nails digging into her palms and hurting her.

Nonetheless, as she looked at her daughter’s face – a face that so easily displayed pain, frustration and anger – the Queen felt a pang of regret and compassion and said in a lower voice, “I’ll try to talk to your father, though. See if I can get you some more time. Perhaps we can delay the ball for another month or so.” A short pause as she walked to the door. “I truly am sorry, love.”

And with that the queen closed the door behind her and Isabella finally released the sobs that were strangling her and let the tears fall freely down her face.

==

It was a dark night. The moon was hidden behind massive clouds and only a couple stars could be seen here and there in the sky, but their light wasn’t enough to illuminate the forest. Luckily for her, Isabella already knew the way to the forest all too well and the lack of light didn’t represent an obstacle.

After the conversation she had had with her mother, she had contemplated not going back to the forest ever again; but two seconds later she had realised that it wouldn’t be fair to Florence – especially after the way she had left things between them the last time they were together. So, not so reluctantly, she headed to the forest again a few days later.

Florence was waiting for her in front of the wall of thorns as she normally did, except this time Isa  _heard_  her before she had the chance to see her. She was singing a song Isa had never heard before. Her voice oscillating, breaking as if she was crying, and the sound triggered something inside of Isa that made her walk faster, longing to see Florence’s face, to make sure she was fine. As she approached her, the words she was singing became clear to Isabella and she stopped a few steps away from her, not being able to stop her from singing.

 _Would you leave me,_  
If I told you what I've done?  
And would you leave me,  
If I told you what I've become?  
'Cause it's so easy,  
To sing it to a crow  
But it's so hard, my love,  
To say it to you aloud…

Florence held the note in the last word, then, for longer than Isabella had imagined was normal for a human being to release their breath. But then again, Florence  _wasn’t_  human. The restrictions of human body and system didn’t apply to her. And this little reminder didn’t cause admiration this time; it made Isa’s heart sink and hit the ground underneath her feet. She had to face the truth: even if she wasn’t being forced to marry anyone, she had no future with Florence.

No matter how much she wanted her and to be with her, it would just never happen. Not in this life, not in the world they lived in.

Florence’s voice silenced and Isa’s ears immediately felt its absence, jerking her back to reality. Flo’s beautiful green eyes were staring at her, and even in the dim light, Isa could see a small smile on her lips.

“Oh, Isa, I didn’t hear you coming,” she said, getting closer to Isa. Her naturally reddish hair looked almost brown in the dim light and her skin seemed even paler. Every time Isabella would lay her eyes on her, she had trouble believing she was real and not only a figment of her silly imagination.

As if reading her mind, Florence reached out to hold Isa’s hand. Even though the touch was light, Isa felt it all the way through her bones, soothing her. “It was a beautiful song that you were singing,” she commented. “It’s new isn’t it?”

Florence lowered her eyes to the ground, her free hand moving up to ruffle her hair. “Yes, I… um, I wrote it a few days ago.” Her eyes looked up at Isa through her thick fringe. “I felt inspired.”

Flo’s eyes peered into Isa’s and a timid smile spread across her lips and Isa knew that it was a question. Florence was asking if it was alright to bend down just a little and press her lips to hers once again. She was asking if she had got it right and Isa had feelings for her, too. She was asking if Isa wanted to try to be with her, despite all the rules it would break and all the problems and conflicts it would bring. But Isa’s answer didn’t quite match the expectation displayed on her face.

Isa offered her an apologetic smile and slid her hand from her grip. “I brought something for you,” she mumbled, handing Florence a book she had been holding behind her back. Flo’s eyes analysed the cover confusingly. “I’ve noticed you already finished the one I brought to you a while ago. So I thought I should bring another one and you could perhaps read it for me tonight?”

Florence snapped her head up and stared at Isa, her expression was blank and there was no light in her eyes. Flo knew what that offer really meant. She knew Isa was the one who was putting distance between them and she knew she was doing that because of the kiss. And Isa knew she knew it. Isa clenched her jaw, fighting back tears.

Florence took the book from her hands and opened a crack on the wall of thorns for them to walk through it and go to the lake, as they normally did. When they arrived there, Florence sat down under a tree and opened the book over her legs on a random page, as Isa sat opposite her. She tried to focus on her reading, but for the whole night, she didn’t turn a single page. And during the whole night the two of them stayed silent.


	13. The Truth

  
  
  
  


As September ended and October progressed, things didn’t get any better between them. It seemed like the invisible barrier that used to exist between them had been restored, except this time Isabella had been the one who had built it.

Isa had been bringing new books almost every night and resolutely asking Florence to read them for her. And every time the latter tried to put the books aside to initiate a conversation, Isa would just stay quiet and reply with nothing but a nod of the head, making it clear that she didn’t want to talk. Florence had slowly learned that Isa had changed her behaviour towards her and had resignedly accepted it, though she was growing impatient and more frustrated with every night that passed without an explanation.

But that’s exactly the kind of reaction Isabella had been trying to cause: impatience and anger. Perhaps Florence would get so angry that she would just shout at her and tell her to never come back, and then she would comply. Because, in all fairness, that was the wisest decision to make.

Nonetheless, something else was coming along with the anger and frustration:  _pain_. Isabella could clearly see pain rising behind Flo’s eyes, darkening their light, threatening the smile Isabella loved so much, pulling her lips downwards. This same pain was making Florence become insecure, quiet, silent, as if anything she said might be the last drop and push Isabella away forever. That bubbly, content child Isabella had grown to love, was nowhere to be seen.

Knowing that she was the cause of the clear sadness on Florence’s face was flooding her chest with guilt and regret. She wanted to bring Florence back, and suddenly it was  _everything_  she wanted – the  _only_  thing she wanted. Suddenly, her own afflictions and problems didn’t matter as much as they had a few weeks ago. She knew it was imprudent, but she could feel her barrier growing weaker with every minute she spent around Florence and she didn’t seem to be able to find the strength to keep it up. And in all fairness, she would watch with pleasure when it crashed down.

==

Florence had thought she would never do it again. She had thought she would never have to cross the river and fly to the castle again, but that’s exactly what she was doing now. Except that she was doing it for a completely different reason this time.

Flo had tried really hard not to think about the events of the past weeks. Had tried to keep her mind away from thinking about that unexpected yet very welcome kiss, away from the reaction it had caused in her body and away from the way Isa had been behaving around her ever since it had happened. And the only way she had found to succeed in this rather difficult task was to direct her thoughts to something else. So she had spent the past weeks thinking about the events of three years ago.

She had come to the conclusion that she honestly, genuinely regretted what she had done to that girl, not only because she knew Isa would be disappointed, but also because cursing an innocent girl only to make her father suffer had been an horrid decision.

So she had decided to break the curse.

It was strange what she was feeling. It wasn’t exactly fear or nervousness, it was just a mix of the two plus excitement and anxiety. She felt like the only way she could finally move on and maybe give whatever was going on between her and Isa a real chance was if she finally broke the curse, otherwise it would feel like she was just lying to herself and Isabella.

Having a strange sensation of  Déjà Vu, Florence waved her hands and whispered “Sleep”, making the guards that were watching the gates fall on the ground, and promptly flew up to the window of the room that belonged to the Princess. Again, she couldn’t see anything besides the outline of the furniture and of the body lying in bed under the covers.

She felt something that she didn’t feel the first time she had looked at her, though: she felt a pang in her chest that easily made her gasp and she didn’t know why, but looking at that silhouette now made her feel sick.  _Guilt,_ she concluded, making her stomach churn and her chest ache.

With a slight movement of her finger, she opened the window and sat down on the windowsill – she was feeling too sick to get any closer. She pictured Isa’s face instead. She imagined her beautiful eyes and perfect smile. Imagined her hands curling around hers. Imagined how proud she would be if she knew that Flo had regretted it and fixed her mistake. Even though Florence still wanted the king to pay for what he had done, she concluded she would find another way to make it happen, without involving anyone else.

Then, quietly, she opened her mouth and let the words that were filling her mind and chest bubble out of her mouth. “I revoke the curse. Let it be no more.” Her voice was too weak, too faint to be heard for anyone other than herself, so she took a deep breath and tried again. “I revoke the curse. Let it be no more.” She stood up on the windowsill, opened her arms widely and focused on the dark shape lying in bed. Green smoke radiated from her hands and started to float forward towards the girl.

“I revoke the curse. Let it be no more!” She said aloud and the green smoke enveloped the girl again like it had done that night three years ago. But instead of causing an effect, it just disappeared into the air leaving the room as suddenly and easily as it had appeared.

Before Florence could ask herself what had gone wrong, her own voice bounced off the walls and echoed in her ears, reminding her of her exact words that night. “ _This curse will last to the end of time. No power on Earth can change it.”_ No power on Earth, including her own.

She felt tears stinging her eyes and clenched her fists. And it was then that the girl lying in bed moved, turning onto her side and pushing the blanket down a little, giving Florence a perfect glimpse of her silver blonde hair and face.

Florence’s entire world stopped, shook, and crumbled to pieces. All the small fragments were hitting her so hard she could physically feel the pain it was causing. She couldn’t move; she was paralysed by fear and regret and guilt and a pain so strong she didn’t know how she was still in one piece. No, it couldn’t be true. Of all people she could have cursed, there was no chance she had cursed Isabella, right? What were the odds? She had seen it wrong. She  _had_ to have seen it wrong.

But she  _hadn’t._ The moonlight was now streaming inside the room through the open window and doing a good job at illuminating the room, exactly when Florence didn’t want to see anything. She clutched her chest in agony, heavy tears rolling down her face and burning her skin, carrying the weight of her mistake.

In a moment of despair, she opened her wings and flew away from the castle, toward the forest. Perhaps things would be clearer in the morning. Perhaps she would wake up and realise it had been nothing but a terrible nightmare. Or perhaps her wings would give out and fail and she would fall flat to the ground before she could even get to the forest. Whatever would attenuate the pain that was torturing her, she would gladly accept it.

==

“Oh god, Isa is the princess?” Grace asked, her eyes widening. Florence’s head was resting on her lap and she was fondling her head, tenderly.

Florence had gotten home about forty minutes ago, shaking and crying and hardly breathing. Grace was used to her sister’s panic attacks, but this one was by far the worst Florence had ever had. Now that she was calmer, though, and had managed to tell her sister the whole story, Grace could finally understand what had prompted it and things made sense to her.

“But there’s still a way, right?” Grace reflected aloud. “True love’s kiss or something along those lines?”

Florence swallowed hard.  _That_  was another thing that was plaguing her. Isabella had kissed her on her birthday because she had  _wanted_  to, and Florence had, for a brief, foolish moment, believed that, perhaps, that had been because she had feelings for her. But the fact that there was still a curse to be broken, proved that love was something Isabella didn’t feel for her – at least not  _true_  love. In all honesty, even what  _she_  felt for Isa could be something else. Perhaps an infatuation or simply attraction. Isa had been the first person Florence had had contact with besides her family, and she didn’t even know what love was – it was all too knew for her, she was still learning the rules, just starting to crawl. Perhaps love was just an illusion, just a theory; nothing that could be felt, only imagined.

Nonetheless, she still wanted to save her. She cared about her too much not to do anything. Isa had too many dreams, too many things she wanted to accomplish, she was too good to lose the chance to live.

“She’s a princess, Grace. She will marry someone for interest not love.” She looked into her sister’s eyes and found nothing but apologies. “What do I do, Gracie? Her birthday is in two days.”

Her sister caressed her forehead tenderly. “I don’t know, Flossie, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But one thing is for certain: you need to tell her the truth, Flo.”

The air caught in Florence’s throat. “She will hate me forever.”

Grace shook her head. “You just have to.”

==

“Isabella, we need to talk,” Florence said as soon as Isa crossed the river and approached her that night. She couldn’t manage to look Isa in the eye, so she stared at an invisible spot behind her instead.

That was it: the ultimatum Isa had been waiting for. The moment Florence would finally confront her. And yet she couldn’t help but feel nervous. Whatever was decided now would be definitive. If Florence sent her away, she would comply. But if she wanted to try and be with her despite all the conflict it might bring…

“I believe we need to, yes,” Isa said, her eyes moving away from Florence’s face. “If you’re wondering why I’ve been acting the way I have, well, it’s because of my father, Florence. He… He’s forcing me to find a husband. He told the whole kingdom that we’re looking for a future king and now all the men are coming to the castle and it’s been awful.” She stopped, waiting for Florence to yell at her or confront her about what she had just blurted out, but Florence stayed silent, still staring into mid-air.

“Won’t you ask any question about what I just told you?”

“I  _know_ who you are, Isa,” Florence answered, in a voice so low Isabella had to strain to hear.

Isa needed a moment to comprehend what Flo had just said. “What?  _How_  do you know it, though?”

“Isa, we need to talk about something.” Florence’s voice was more firm now, showing authority.

Isa blinked twice, confused by the tone of Flo’s voice and the rather concerned expression on her face. “Alright. Won’t you open the wall so we can enter the forest?”

Florence shook her head lightly, turning her back to Isabella. “It’s better if we don’t enter the forest, tonight.”

“Flo,” Isa said, taking a step closer. She reached out to grab Florence’s hand but Flo moved away from her touch. “Florence, please. Things are bad enough, could you please cooperate?”

“Isabella you listen to me,” Florence exclaimed, turning around and nearly towering over Isabella. Her eyes were distant, though, vacant, as if she couldn’t really see anything in front of her. “There’s… I did…I…” she stumbled, the words fading from her mind, running away from her tongue.

 _How_  was she supposed to tell Isabella the whole truth? She couldn’t even think of a better way of telling Isabella that she had cursed her without even knowing who she was. She could try and explain that her father had hurt her family first, but in all honesty, it would only sound like she was trying to find an excuse for her actions – and it was exactly what it would be, after all. But Florence wasn’t trying to justify her mistake because there was no plausible explanation for what she had done. She had acted out of anger and revenge and hurt Isabella in the process. What she had done had been pure cruelty. And she knew Isa would see it, too. That’s why she couldn’t bring herself to speak.

 “There’s an evil in this world, Isa. And I—”

“I know,” Isabella cut in, closing her eyes. “That’s what I’m trying to escape from, Flo. That’s why I’m here.” She walked past Florence, towards the wall of thorns. “My father had the audacity to tell me that one of you, one of the magical creatures, cursed me two years ago. That if I don’t find someone to marry before my birthday comes I’ll fall into a sleep like death.” She let out a sarcastic laugh, clenching her fists. “Look how far he has gone just to make me follow his orders.”

She turned around again, expecting to find an astonished look on Flo’s face, but what she found was a pale, terrified, petrified expression staring into mid-air. Florence was paralised, her hands shaking. An all-consuming fear took over her body, making her impotent.

Isa noticed it. Something cold ran down her spine as she analised Flo’s face. “Florence, do you… do you know anything about it? I mean, is it  _true_?” Florence’s lips parted but no words came out of them. Isabella felt her stomach sink.

“Florence, if you know something about it tell me. I have the right to know!” Her voice was growing louder, but out of nervousness not anger.

Florence winced and flinched, jerking back to reality. She lay her eyes on Isa’s face for just one second before lowering them to the ground again, her hands tugging tightly at the fabric of her dress.

“Who did it to me, Flo?” Isa asked again, getting closer to her, lowering her voice.

The air caught in Florence’s throat, strangling her. She felt her chest tighten up as if her heart was being smashed inside her between her ribs. She felt tears stinging her eyes, but for some reason, no water blurred her sight. She desperately wanted to cry, but she couldn’t find the strength. If anything, it felt as though she was about to faint.

Her silence, however, answered all the questions that her voice failed to answer. A single sob escaped Isabella’s throat as she took in the information that the woman standing in front of her, the woman she had grown to love and trust, had done something so awful to her.

“You did this.” It wasn’t even a question anymore, Isa was  _affirming_  it. “ _You_  did this to me!”

Florence was trembling now, her stomach turning and twisting. “Isa, I—” Her voice was too quiet for Isabella to hear. Isa could see her mouth moving, though. But she didn’t want to hear a word.

“No, you don’t get to speak,” she nearly yelled. “You’ve been playing with me this whole time? Just toying with my feelings?” Tears were pouring from her eyes, dampening the collar of her nightdress. “Why would you do something like that?  _You_  of all people? I trusted you, Florence! I… I—” she choked, unable to finish her sentence.

Florence tried to get a hold of her wrist, but she pulled her hand back. “Don’t touch me!” She looked right into Florence’s eyes and added, “You’re right – there is an evil in this world. And  _you_ are a part of it!”

And with that she turned on her heels and ran back to the castle, leaving Florence to be swallowed by her despair and guilt.


	14. The Kiss

  
  
  
  


Florence didn’t leave the bed the following morning; she couldn’t bring herself to. Her mind was clouded, haunted by the memories of the night before. Her whole body was sore, aching from all the sobbing and her eyes swollen from all the crying. Part of her was still living in denial, still trying to convince the other parts that it had all been nothing but a nightmare. But that part was too quiet and small to make a difference in her head. The louder, bigger parts were shouting horrible things to her, reminding her of what would happen to Isabella in just a few hours, making up horrid scenarios, whispering dreadful things to her. Every time she closed her eyes she could see all the ghosts and ghouls from her past sneaking around in the corners, slowly getting closer and closer to her, ready to eat her alive. And she thought that she might just let them do it this time, having no strength to fight them all.

The sound of the door opening brought her back from her wonderings and her sister’s voice filled the room in a timid whisper. “Flo, you cannot spend the rest of the day in bed. You have to get up and do something about this mess.”

Florence groaned, curling her body into a tight ball. “I cannot do anything, Grace. Believe me; I would do  _anything_  to save her. But there’s nothing I can do.”

Grace snorted, crossing her arms. “Why don’t you just—”

She was interrupted by the sound of something hitting their window, hard. The two of them turned their heads to find a rather agitated crow hitting its wings against the window, a loud shrill sound coming out of its beak. Grace promptly ran to the window and opened it, giving the bird space to come in. He flapped his wings frantically, still making that almost disturbing sound.

Grace’s eyes widened. “Flossie, hurry up! Rob wants to tell us something.”

Florence sat up on the bed, still confused and a little surprised, and moved her hand slightly, doing as her sister commanded.

“There’s a man on a horse approaching the wall of thorns. He’s coming from the South. I don’t know if he represents a threat, but I thought I should let you know.”

Florence clenched her fists, brushing off her own problems and focusing on the new issue. “I’ll check that out. You stay here with Grace and—”

“No way!” Grace interjected. “Last time I let you handle things on your own someone ended up cursed. This time I’m coming with you.”

==

A tall man standing beside a dark horse: that’s what Florence, Grace, and Rob found when they crossed the wall of thorns. He looked very young and quite handsome, with black hair and a shaved beard. His clothing was elegant and screamed “wealth”. Florence gritted her teeth – she just did _not_  like royalty.

They landed fairly far from where the young man stood, making as little noise as possible, observing him. He was looking confusingly at the river, then towards the massive wall of thorns, and back at the river again. Clearly, he didn’t know where he was.

“He’s lost,” Grace stated. “We should help.”

“Or we could just push him into the river and leave,” Florence commented with a wry smile.

Grace ignored her and took a few steps forward and away from the shadows, making herself visible. Florence tried to pull her back but failed, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Do you need help, Sir?” Grace called quietly.

The man turned around and blinked twice as he saw Grace standing there and Florence standing just a few steps behind her with a crow on her shoulder. He looked at the horse as if considering running away, but then turned to face the fairies again, his big brown eyes growing wide.

“Well, umm… ladies…?” Florence noticed the slight interrogative tone in his voice but decided to let this one pass. “I’m trying to get to the King’s castle. They told me to follow this route but I ended up trapped here somehow.” He laughed nervously. “I’m sorry, I had no idea I was stepping in the Magical Realm.”

“The castle,” Grace reflected.

The boy nodded. “Yes, Miss. I’m Prince Philip. I’m here to meet the Princess. Do you happen to know the way to the castle?”

Florence swallowed hard, remembering Isa’s words the night before when she had said her father had communicated to the whole kingdom that they were looking for a successor to the throne. She wondered if the castle was full of men fighting for her hand, surrounding her, touching her, whispering things into her ear. She felt her stomach churn and immediately regretted it. That was Isa’s last chance anyway – to find her true love.

So why was it that the pain in her chest was growing stronger instead of fading away?

“My sister can take you there, right Flossie?” said Grace, bringing Flo back to reality.

She almost choked on her own saliva. “What? Why are you speaking for me? I’m not going anywhere,” she retorted, folding her arms across her chest.

Grace inhaled noisily and then smiled politely at the boy. “Could you give us a second?” She gripped Florence by the wrist and dragged her back into the shadows, so they could have  _some_  privacy. “Now you listen to me, Flo. That guy is a prince and he was supposed to be at the castle but he got lost, doesn’t it sound a little  _arranged_?” Florence frowned, not exactly following her sister’s line of thought. Grace rolled her eyes. “We found him and you can take him to Isabella. Doesn’t it seem like it’s a signal or something?”

Florence let out a sarcastic laugh. “Don’t tell me that you think that…  _child_  can be Isa’s true love, Gracie. I swear he’s not much older than yourself.”

Grace took a deep breath, tempted to just hit her sister on the head in order to make her brain work properly for once. “I didn’t say it, did I? I just think it means _you_  have to go to the castle and do  _something_. Just go there and talk to her and apologise. I know you want to go and now you have the perfect reason to do so.” She smiled proudly.

Florence’s face fell a little and she bit her bottom lip, lowering her eyes to the ground. “Isa won’t speak to me ever again after what I did. She hates me.”

“It’s you saying it, not Isabella,” Grace reminded her. “Last night she was upset, so she said things she didn’t mean. Besides, you owe this to her, Flossie. You have to at least try to fix it one last time before it’s too late, you know.”

Florence pretended to ponder this for a moment, but the truth was that her mind was already made up. Her heart was aching and her whole being needed to at least see Isabella one last time. She could not let things between them stay the way they were. And if life was giving her a second chance – no matter how twisted it might seem –, she might as well just grasp it.

“Alright, boy,” she said aloud, walking towards him with Grace in tow. “I’ll show you the way. I’ll fly and you follow me with your horse. But we must go fast because we’re running out of time.”

Philip nodded, promptly climbing on the horse. “Thank you.” Florence looked at him over her shoulder but before she could answer, Philip added, “That was directed to your sister, not you.”

“It’s Grace,” a timid voice sounded behind them. “My name’s Grace.”

Florence narrowed her eyes at the grin that was now plastered on her sister’s face and snorted. “Great, we all know each other. This is lovely. Now I believe you should go home, Grace. Rob you’re coming with me.” She looked at Philip then with a serious expression. “Shall we go now?”

And with that she took off, feeling her heart pound in her throat, and started her small journey to the castle.

==

For someone who had promised she would never cross the river again after the incident of three years ago, Florence had been doing it quite often. But her mind was too busy thinking about Isabella to focus on what she was doing.

When Florence saw the gates of the castle, though, she physically felt something hitting her, as if an imaginary wall had just appeared in front of her and she had smashed her entire body against it, but her chest was what was aching the most. She stopped flying, clutching her chest in agony, forcing Rob to stop right beside her and Philip to stop riding his horse as well.

She knew what that feeling was: a bad omen. A signal that meant that the curse had either already happened or was about to happen.

“You’re on your own now, boy – we can already see the gates,” she shouted, then turned to Rob. “You go with the boy. I have to go  _now_!”

And with that, she flew above the clouds towards Isabella’s window as fast as she could.

==

After making the guards fall asleep once again – a task she had mastered at this point – she flew up to Isa’s window, opening it with a wave of her hand, and sneaked into the room, but it didn’t take her more than a second to realise it was too late – Isabella was lying in bed, her hands linked together on her belly, her eyes and lips resolutely closed and a serene expression on her face.

Florence felt tears stinging her eyes but no water blurred her sight – she felt the tears suffocating her though, tightening up her throat and compressing her chest. She had never thought she would want to give her life for someone other than family one day. She had never thought that such a small person could mean so much to her and occupy such a huge place in her life and heart. And, above all, she had never thought that falling in love with someone could hurt this much.

She didn’t even know what has hurting her the most, though: the fact that she had cursed Isabella, the fact that she had fallen in love with her, or the fact that she hadn’t been capable of saving her.

Weakly, she forced her legs to move and walked wobbly to the bed, her hands shaking. She stopped beside the bed and looked down at Isa. Even now, she looked so beautiful, so serene. Flo took in her features, forced her mind to keep the memory of her voice safely locked in a box inside her head, along with the texture of her skin and of her silver blonde hair. Then she gave herself a brief moment to mourn everything that could have been, and everything that would never be.

“I’m sorry, my dear Isa,” she cried out, taking Isa’s hand in her own, finally giving in to pain and letting the tears fill her eyes and roll down her cheeks. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t enough to save you. But I hope that you know that there won’t be a day that will go by that I won’t miss your smile, a night that will fall that I won’t wish you were there with me, and a second that will pass by that I won’t think of you. You stole what was left of my heart and now I’ve lost you forever.”

A sob escaped her throat and she bent down slowly, tenderly pressing her lips to Isa’s forehead, her tears falling onto Isa’s skin. Then she pulled away slightly and pressed her forehead to Isa’s, fondling her head, taking a moment to collect herself.

As if a dream or too good of a reality to be actually true, Florence heard a light gasp coming from Isa and then the voice she had grown to love so much filled her ears as Isa mumbled, “Flo? What are you doing here?”

“Isa?!” Florence exclaimed, astonished, pulling away slightly so she could see Isa’s face. “But  _how_? I mean, I’m happy that – oh god I’m just  _so happy_  that you are back! But I can’t understand it.”

Isabella rolled her eyes, sitting up on the bed and placing her hands on Florence’s hips, pulling her closer. “What is it that you don’t understand? It seems to me that you’ve made your own fairytale – a very  _cheesy_  one, I must say.”

Florence laughed lightly between sobs, still not sure whether it was a dream or her imagination playing tricks on her. “But we kissed before and yet it didn’t break the curse…”

Isabella nodded. “Maybe because I didn’t know the truth yet? And maybe because you also hadn’t exactly regretted your actions yet? The curse was testing us, I suppose. Testing if what we felt for each other would survive this, you know.”

It was strange how, for someone who had never really believed in true love, Isabella wasn’t even cringing as she voiced her thoughts. Perhaps because Florence’s smile was everything she could actually focus on right now, and the fact that  _she_  had brought Isa back was everything that mattered.

Isa’s words made sense to Florence. She used her emotions to do magic, after all, so it was understandable that it had worked the way it had. She decided to stop trying to comprehend the  _why_  and  _how_ , though. Isa was right here in front of her – life had, after all, given them another chance, and all she could do now was grasp it with her entire being.

But first…

“I’m sorry, Isa. I  _truly_  am. I… I wasn’t myself when I did that to you. I was possessed by anger and thirst for vengeance and it… it blinded me.” Florence was speaking too fast, stumbling over her own words, her hands frantically gesticulating about. “I shouldn’t have done it, not to you or anyone else. I’m not asking you for forgiveness, I just want you to know that I  _do_  regret it and I’ll regret it forever and… Oh god, I have to tell you the whole story, you need to know what happened, I—”

Isabella smiled, shaking her head. “Florence, I  _know_  what happened. When I found out about the curse I was too angry to think coherently, but after a while I remembered the story Grace told me about the fire that killed your family. So it wasn’t so hard to make the connection,” she trailed off, trying to focus solely on Florence’s presence and not in the anger she was starting to feel for her father, again. “My father, moved by greed, disrespected the treaty and killed your family. You acted out of anger. I understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Florence repeated, tears filling her eyes once again.

“I forgive you, though,” Isa said, looking into Flo’s eyes so that Florence wouldn’t think she was lying. “You saved me in the end, and I think we should focus on that instead of on our past.” Florence still seemed to doubt Isa’s words, her eyes studying her face, looking for a trace of anger, so Isa decided to reassure her that there were no hard feelings.

She took Florence’s hands in her own and looked into her teary green eyes. “Oh, and by the way: I love you, too.”

Fresh tears escaped Flo’s eyes but this time they were ones of happiness and relief. Isa’s hands moved to the collar of her dress and pulled her down, she closed her eyes and braced herself for that moment, relishing the contact of Isa’s soft, sweet lips against her own, her hands moving up to cup Isa’s face.

Kissing Isa now was different from kissing Isa that one night, when her mind was confused and clouded and there were countless problems between them; an imaginary force pulling them apart. This time, however, everything was just pure, raw feelings and sensations and Florence felt as though she was literally melting in Isa’s hold. The tip of Isa’s fingers were pressing against the exposed skin of her shoulders, sending shivers through her body and what seemed to be electricity down the length of her arms and legs. Everything was so overwhelming, she wondered if it was what those few seconds before dying felt like: finding a moment of clarity and inner happiness where nothing else matters and there are no more worries or fears, just pure, plain peace and self-contentment. Except that she felt more alive than life itself.

When they parted the kiss, gasping for air, they heard the faint sound of the door closing and it startled them. Florence’s wide eyes stared at Isa questioningly. “It was my maid, probably. We better get going, Flo. I don’t want my father to know that you are here.”

Florence blinked twice. “ _We_? You’re coming with me?” An incredulous, yet happy, smile spread across her lips.

Isa jumped off the bed and intertwined her fingers with Flo’s. “I don’t want to live with someone as cruel as my father. He will never stop controlling my life, and I want to live it with you.”

Florence laughed. “I’m not going to stop you.”

Isa squeezed Flo’s hand in response. “Right. Just give me one minute to tell my mother I’m fine. I still have respect for her, you know. I don’t want her to think something bad happened to me.” Florence nodded and Isa pulled her in once again, planting a light kiss on her lips. “I’ll be back soon, love. Wait for me.”

==

Florence’s mind was a doubtful, intriguing place that would normally overthink every single situation and make up a dozen different scenarios in which awful things could happen, but this time there wasn’t a single bad thought disturbing her. The sensation of Isa’s lips was still on hers, tingling her skin and making it impossible for her to stop smiling. In a few minutes she would go away with her to the forest and nothing and no one would ever bother them again or threat their safety. In a few minutes everything was going to be fine.

Right?

A familiar tweet filled her ears a while after, bringing her back to reality. She turned towards the sound and found Rob flying before her eyes nervously, clearly wanting to say something. Florence moved her finger and waited for him to be able to speak, trying to shake off the worries that were starting to plague her.

“I have some bad news,” Rob stated, his apologetic eyes staring at Flo’s, making her hands start to shake.

“So say it!” she urged.

“The King knows you are here. There are guards everywhere around the castle with cannons ready to shoot you with iron balls if you try to escape. And he has Isabella; he won’t let her leave the throne room.” A short pause. “What are we going to do?”

Without bothering to give him an audible answer, Florence rushed to the door and stormed out of the room, deciding to put an end to this useless, meaningless war. If Isabella wanted to live with her, she sure as hell would and no king would stay in their way. She would take her girlfriend and leave – that’s all she would do.

Or so she thought.


	15. The Last Battle

  
  
  
  


Florence realised one minute too late that it hadn’t been the smartest decision to just roam around the castle trying to get to the throne room when there were servants everywhere at this time of the day. However, she couldn’t really fly in the corridors because that would draw even more attention, so she just ran as fast as she could towards the room she had only entered once but had never forgotten.

As she stopped outside of the door she could hear Isa’s screams but couldn’t make out what she was saying. Rob stopped beside her and tried to protest but Flo’s hand was already moving in the air, opening the door, and her feet were already moving forward.

Every single person in the room turned their heads towards the door when it opened to Florence, but only one voice was audible, tearing the silence of the room with a nervous scream.

“Florence, no! Go away now! You have to go!” warned Isa, fighting against the guards that were holding her shoulders and arms, keeping her in place.

But before Florence could react to what she had said, an iron net fell upon her, burning her skin and making her weak. She let out a hiss of pain and anger as Rob desperately tried to free her from the iron net, but the more he moved the net the more the iron burned Florence, making her moan and groan in pain.

“You don’t seem so powerful now that you’re away from your beloved forest and surrounded by iron, you  _beast_. Isn’t it wonderful to feel powerless and impotent? Huh?” the king said, gesticulating for his guards to get closer to her, each one of them holding both a lance and a shield made of iron. Only the proximity of the material was enough to hurt Florence’s skin even more.

“Stop it, Father! You’ll kill her!” pleaded Isabella, her desperate eyes staring at Florence’s agonised expression.

Her father slowly turned his head towards Isabella and, with an evil, almost terrifying smile on his face, stated, “Oh, honey, but that’s  _exactly_  what I intend to do.”

Isa wanted to shout at him again but her voice failed her and only a sound that was a mix of a groan and a sob escaped her throat. Florence looked at Isabella and her father and wondered how two people who shared the same blood could be so different. Isabella was a good soul and her father was just the devil in the flesh. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to find out what her mother was like.

“Aren’t you tired of this?” Florence asked, faintly. “Fighting a battle that will take us nowhere? I already lost my family and we almost lost Isabella. Isn’t it enough? You still want to kill more people?”

The mad smile on the King’s face grew wider, and a maniacal laugh escaped his throat. “No, no more people; just _you._ ”

“Why?” Flo asked. The guards’ lances were so close she could already anticipate the pain she would feel when it dug through her skin.

The King gritted his teeth. “You entered my kingdom, you cursed my daughter and you disrespected me! And now you come back and think you can take her away from me?” Florence could see anger burning in his eyes, making him as blind as it had made her two years ago. The only difference was that Florence was genuinely good, and the King was  _not_.

“You should have died in that fire along with the rest of your family, you beast. But I’ll kill you now before my very eyes and Isabella will watch it, too, so that she will learn not to disobey me ever again.”

A single tear escaped Isabella’s eyes and it was all it took for Florence to open her wings and fly up to the ceiling, shaking her body to free herself from the iron net, not even bothering when it hurt her skin once again. The net hit the floor with a dull thud and the King screamed out in anger, his entire face contorting into a mad grimace.

“Into a wolf!” Florence shouted, turning Rob into a massive wolf, who promptly jumped at the guards that were approaching him. She was too weak to make all those guards fall asleep.

Florence flew towards the guards that were holding Isabella, hitting them with her wings. Isa fell on the floor and promptly got up to her feet again, running towards the door, but other guards appeared and blocked her way. Florence flew towards them as well, but these ones hit her with their lances at the last minute, causing the fairy to fall to the floor, her chest bleeding.

“No! Stay away from her!” Isabella shouted, but she was ignored and aggressively pushed back by one of the guards.

All the other guards marched towards Florence and poked her with their lances, hurting her arms, her wings, her chest, whilst the fairy desperately tried to escape them. She looked around for Rob, but the wolf was busy keeping the guards away from Isabella and from himself. She could hear the King’s hysterical laugh in the distance but the deafening roar of the guards were blocking out all the other sounds.

It was then that the door was burst open and the Queen’s voice echoed in the room as she proclaimed, “Enough of this madness! The guards shall back off immediately!”

They did not follow her orders, but her short speech gave Florence time to recover a little and fly to the floor-to-ceiling window that was located behind the thrones. The queen looked up at her and Florence could read her lips mouthing “ _What are you?_ ” But Florence ignored her and directed her attention to the King, instead.

“You forgot a small detail, King: it takes two to fight a battle and I’m done fighting.”

The King thought she was about to break through the window and fly away, while, actually, she was planning on taking Isabella first. But his anger was stronger and faster than Florence. He took a lance from a guard’s hand and shouted “You will only leave this castle over my dead body!”

He ran towards where Florence was standing as fast as he could, forcing Florence to fly up to the ceiling to protect herself. But he was too fast to stop on his tracks before hitting the window. The lance hit it first and then his body came right after, breaking the glass and falling out of the window. Florence’s eyes widened and she quickly flew down towards his falling body as fast as she could, but a falling body is always heavier and therefore faster than a flying one. The only thing Florence could do was turn her back to the scene one second before the King’s body hit the ground below her with a dull thud, and then the whole world around her fell silent.

==

“Florence!” Isabella exclaimed when Flo entered the room again through the broken window. She pulled the hem of her dress up and ran towards her, but before she could reach her, Florence succumbed to shock and, once again, guilt, and fell on her knees, bringing her hands to her face to muffle her sobs.

“Florence, love, are you hurt? Are you in pain?” Isa urged, kneeling in front of her, her hands desperately wandering over Flo’s body, looking for wounds. “Flo, talk to me, honey. Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Florence sobbed, vainly wiping her tears with the back of her hands just so new ones could replace them. “I’m fine. But… Isa your… your father… I’m sorry,” she choked.

Isabella cupped her face with her hands, forcing Florence to look at her. “It’s not your fault. Stop blaming yourself for everything, please. It’s not your fault. He would have…” she trailed off, biting her bottom lip. “He would have killed you, Flo. He was… mad. There was no salvation for him.”

Florence’s teary eyes looked into hers questioningly. “But… are you not angry with me?”

Isa let a breathy laugh escape between tears. “You idiot,” she hissed, pulling Florence in and pressing her lips to her forehead, then to her cheeks. “I’m so glad you are fine. I wouldn’t have been able to cope if I had lost you, too.” She kissed Florence, then, knowing that her mother was watching and not having a care in the world.

It was the fourth time she was kissing Florence, and yet only their passionate kiss after Isa had woken up hadn’t come with the weight of a thousand problems, and Isabella was honestly so fed up with all this. She just wanted to be free to love whoever she wanted and live her life the way she wanted and not be humiliated and ridiculed because of that. And on top of that she didn’t want to see Florence shred a single tear ever again because of the things Isa’s family had done to her. That battle was over – it had taken away two lives and almost ruined others, but it was  _finally_ over.

“I love you,” Isa whispered as she parted the kiss, pressing her forehead to Florence’s. “I love you so much.”

“So  _this_  is what it was all about,” said the Queen. She had ordered the guards to leave the room and go take care of the King’s body and was now walking towards the two girls, her heels hitting the floor, causing Florence to flinch slightly and pull away from Isa to look up at her.

“Now I can see it clearly.”

Isabella stood up, grabbing Florence’s hand and helping her to her feet. “This is Florence Welch, Mother. Queen of the Moors and—”

“The reason why you’re not married,  _and_ the one who cursed you. Am I right?” the Queen said, a small smile tugging at one corner of her mouth.

Florence opened her mouth to retort, but Isa squeezed her hand. “ _And_  the one who woke me up, Mother. She saved me – more than once.”

The Queen shook her head, bringing a hand to rub her temple. “Oh, Isabella… I’ve always known you were different, since the first time I held you in my arms and laid my eyes on you. I knew you would make a difference. I just didn’t think the price would be so high.” Her eyes wandered to Florence’s scared face, then to their hands interlaced together, then back to Isa’s face. “Of all women you could have fallen for, you had to choose one that isn’t human at all.”

Isabella shrugged. “I don’t like the ordinary,” she stated. Florence was silent, her restless eyes darting from Isa to her mother and back to the blonde again.

The Queen nodded. “I noticed it.”

“Mother—”

“Isabella I’d like you to go to your chamber now, darling. We certainly  _will_ finish this conversation, but we better leave it for tomorrow. Today was a rather… hectic day, and I have serious matters to resolve right now – like sending the princes back to their castle. I think we should all take the rest of the night to put our thoughts and emotions in order, do you not agree?”

Isabella looked at Florence’s exhausted face and nodded briskly. “Yes, Mother.”

“Florence,” the Queen said, startling her. “I think you should leave now. But I’d like to see you again in two days so we can finish this conversation.”

Isa tightened her grip around Flo’s hand. “Mother, couldn’t you—”

“Isabella, please,” the queen said, louder this time. “I believe we have more important things to worry about right now than your love life, am I right?” It silenced her, but made Flo’s chest ache and her throat dry up.

“I’m trying to handle this situation in the best way possible for everyone. Please, cooperate.” She turned her attention to Florence once again. “I’ll see you in two days. Have a good night.”

The Queen gave them one last nod before turning on her heels and walking out of the room, already planning how she would handle the situation from then on. Isabella threw her arms around Florence’s waist and rested her head on her chest.

“I’m sorry, Florence,” she muttered. “I should have just run away with you right away, but I had no idea my maid had told my father about us. And running away now will only make things worse.”

Florence kissed her head tenderly, but didn’t manage to say anything. Every time she thought things were about to get better they ended up getting even worse. In all honesty, she was starting to lose hope.

Isabella knew her silence could only mean that Florence was worried, so she pulled away slightly and looked up at her. “We’re going to be alright, Flo. I promise. We’re going to be fine.”

Florence took in Isa’s words and imprinted them in her mind, repeating them like a mantra. Nonetheless, as she flew back to the forest with Rob beside her, she couldn’t help but feel her chest flooding with dread.


	16. The Deal

  
  
  
  


The following two days passed in a blur. Florence couldn’t focus on anything as everything reminded her of Isabella. The books beside her bed, the two small wooden sculptures that lay on her dressing table, the lake and the river, even her own  _house_  reminded her of that small blonde woman who surely was as nervous and anxious as Florence, herself. It wasn’t until she finally found herself flying back to the castle that she started to feel calmer – yet still nervous.

She pondered for a moment, when she reached the gates of the castle, if she should just walk in the front door this time, but decided to go to Isabella’s room first. The truth was: she just needed to  _see_  her, make sure things weren’t as bad as they seemed in her head, before she could face the Queen.

Politely, she knocked lightly on the window of Isa’s room this time and, luckily for her, Isabella was there to hear it. Isa tossed the book she had been reading carelessly onto the bed and stood up, running towards the window to greet Florence.

She threw her arms around Flo’s waist, enveloping her in a tight hug. Florence gladly welcomed her in her arms, resting her chin on top of Isa’s head for just one second before Isa stood on her tiptoes and kissed her.

The kiss was calm, tender, passionate, and yet managed to inflame something inside Florence that burned through her entire body, making her breathing become ragged and her head spin.

“You need to learn to use the front door,” Isabella joked when they parted the kiss, gently interlacing her fingers with Florence’s.

Flo bit her bottom lip, smiling timidly. “Will you be at the front door to greet me like this?” Isa chuckled and planted a light kiss on her lips in response. “So, how bad are things around here?”

Isa sighed. “Worse than I’d like, but better than expected,” she admitted. “My mum won’t be able to talk to us tonight, though.” Florence’s eyes widened but before she could freak out, Isa explained, “She’s still busy resolving a few things regarding my father’s death. But…” she paused, a happy grin creeping over her lips, “… she asked us to wait until tomorrow morning, so she said you could stay for the night.”

That caught Florence by surprise. She opened her mouth but wasn’t quite sure what she should answer. Isabella squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“It’s alright. My mother is actually a good person.”

“Alright, I guess,” pondered Florence. “I’m going to have to write Grace a letter, though, let her know I’m staying here. Rob can deliver it for me.” She glanced quickly at the crow that sat on the windowsill – her inseparable friend at this point.

Isabella smiled. “Sure. But then, for the rest of the night, it will be just the two of us.”

==

“I missed you quite a lot in the past two days,” Isabella admitted, her fingertips lightly running down Florence’s body above the fabric of her dress, from her collarbone to her belly button.

They had had dinner in Isabella’s room and were now lying on Isabella’s bed. Isa was propping herself on one elbow so she could see Florence’s face as they talked. She couldn’t see any wound on the exposed skin of Flo’s arms, collarbone and legs, and it tranquillised her.

Florence smiled and lifted a hand to fiddle with a strand of Isa’s blonde hair. “I missed you, too.”  Her voice was calm and soft but Isabella could perfectly see fear and insecurity disturbing her, diming the light of her eyes and shadowing her smile.

“Are you alright, Flo?”

“Don’t worry about me, Isa.” She took Isabella’s free hand and brought it to her lips, kissing the back of it lightly. “I’m more worried about you.”

Isa frowned. “Why? I’m perfectly fine.”

“Isa, you can be honest with me and confess you’re upset. It’s understandable.”

Isabella brushed Flo’s fringe away from her eyes and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Alright; I am upset. But I’m more angry than anything. I mean, everything that happened, from you losing your mother to me losing my father, could have been avoided if my father wasn’t so desperate for power and wealth.  _He_  was the problem since the very beginning.”

“I’ve made mistakes, too, you know,” Florence reminded her in a soft voice.

“But you regretted it and my father never did and never would,” Isa pointed out. “Some people are born evil and others become evil because of the circumstances. That man was born evil, and mad for that matter. I don’t believe he has ever loved me or my mother – he never said he loved me, not even once.”

“I do,” Florence said timidly. “I love you.”

“I know you do.” Isa smiled broadly. “And that’s why I’m begging you to stop talking about the past and the bad things that happened at least for tonight. Can you do that?”

“Well, I can try.”

“Good.”

Isabella cupped her face with one hand, her thumb caressing Flo’s face, and leaned down to kiss her on the lips. Florence’s hand traveled up one side of her body, slowly, tentatively, lingering on her collarbone for one moment longer than necessary before cupping her face and tangling her fingers in her hair. Isabella slipped her tongue into Flo’s mouth in response, causing Florence to pull her closer, her breasts pressing against Florence’s.

Isabella found it impressive how no matter how bad things were, whenever she was with Florence if felt as though she had been sucked into another dimension where nothing bad could ever reach them. The past two days had been the worst of her entire life and yet, right now, she was so peaceful it almost felt surreal.

Feeling bold, and moved by that rare feeling of contentment, Isabella ran a hand flat across Florence’s chest, bringing Flo to moan into her mouth, and it reverberated through Isa’s whole body, causing a dampness to manifest itself between her legs.  _God_ , she wanted her. She wanted her like she had never wanted anyone in her life. She didn’t know whether it was appropriate or not, and in all fairness, she wasn’t willing to give much thought to that matter. Tonight, right now, Florence and what she was feeling were everything that mattered.

“What do you think your mother will decide tomorrow?” Florence asked, parting the kiss.

Isabella nearly growled, making a grimace. “Florence, you fucking promised you would try not to talk about it! Can you please focus on _us_  for a moment here?”

“What if someone walks in on us?”

“Nobody comes to my room at this time of the night, Flo,” she reassured her, pressing her lips to Flo’s neck.

Flo’s nails dug into Isa’s shoulders but her voice insisted, “What if—”

Isabella kissed her to shut her up. “All I’m asking is for you to leave it aside for tonight,” she said again, moving her hands tentatively up Flo’s thigh. “Tomorrow we worry. Tonight – tonight we live.”

And Isa’s words drained all the worries out of Flo’s body, making her give in to the sensations and kiss Isabella again.

==

The sun crept in through the window and caressed their bare skin. Isabella opened her eyes slightly, blinking several times to adjust to the sudden brightness that welcomed her. Then she noticed it: the soft movement of Florence’s chest rising and falling underneath her head, her light embrace, the natural sweet scent of her skin, and her warm breath tickling Isa’s cheeks every time she exhaled.

Isabella smiled contently, nuzzling Flo’s collarbone with her nose, making goose bumps erupt over her body. “Good morning,” she said, her voice still croaky from sleep.

“Umm,” answered Florence, kissing the top of her head tenderly.

Isabella propped herself up on one elbow so she could see Florence’s face. Her eyes were still narrow and slightly red from sleep, her long red hair spilled all over the pillow and a small smile played on her lips. Isabella’s eyes wandered down her body, admiring her marble pale skin, the gentle curve of her breasts, stopping to marvel at her flat stomach, the beautiful subtle dip of her waist and the ludicrous length of her legs. Even here, in this way, looking more human than possible, she still resembled a goddess and this simple fact took Isa’s breath away.

“What?” Florence asked, feeling a bit self-conscious to be observed like that.

Isa shook her head lightly. “It’s the first time I’m seeing you in the light of day, and… Do you have any idea how _beautiful_ you really are?”

A blush crept over Florence’s cheeks and she looked away from Isa’s face, biting her bottom lip. Part of her was convinced that she would never get used to the way Isa treated her and spoke about her, but another part of her was already used to it and secretly loved it.

“Have you ever looked in the mirror, Miss Summers?”

“Shut up,” Isa answered, rolling her eyes and leaning down to kiss Florence softly on the lips.

If Isa could pick a moment to live in for the rest of her life, this very moment would be the one. But sooner than she had expected, reality came to tear her perfect world apart once again as her maid knocked lightly on the door, startling both of them.

“Milady? Your mother says she’s ready to see you now. She’s waiting at the dinner table.”

Isabella sighed. “Tell her we’ll see her in a minute. Thank you.”

“Yes, Milady.”

Isa focused on Florence again when the maid’s footsteps couldn’t be heard anymore and found a rather concerned expression on her face. She searched for her hand and interlocked their fingers.

“We’re going to be fine,” Isa reassured her, before jumping off the bed to get dressed and have that conversation with her mother for what she hoped would be the last time.

==

It was the first time Florence was seeing the castle in the light of day and also the first time she was seeing it so quiet. Now, she could finally take a moment to  _admire_  it. Admire the paintings on the walls, the long corridors, the carpets, the chandeliers, and the calm, almost relaxing atmosphere that now engulfed the place.

Still, her stomach seemed to be very busy, churning and twisting and tying into knots as she walked beside Isabella towards the dining room. For one second she asked herself how Isa could be so confident and relaxed, but when she looked closer she could notice the quickness of her breathing. When they stepped into the dining room, Florence felt her stomach sink and hit the floor underneath her feet and her pulse start racing.

“Good morning, ladies,” said the Queen from her seat at the table, gesticulating for them to join her.

Only that was enough to soothe Isa’s nerves a little – she knew that her mother would never have an important conversation at the dining table, she would have gathered them in the throne room if there were bad news coming. However, she didn’t want to keep her hopes up just yet, so she suppressed a smile and went to sit beside her mother, gesticulating for Flo to seat opposite her, on the left-hand side of the Queen.

“So,” the Queen started, her voice soft, “I requested the two of you to be present, but Florence is the one I have to talk to.”

Florence glanced at the Queen, then back at the ludicrous amount of food upon the table in front of her. She couldn’t even imagine a situation in which three people would be able to eat all that food – neither three nor thirty people, to be honest. She wondered if it would too bad to shove a full loaf of bread into her mouth so that she wouldn’t be able to say anything to ruin things, because, in all honesty, that’s what she normally did.

However, the Queen’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “It was brought to my attention that Isabella had been escaping the castle nearly every night for quite a long time now—”

“What?!” Isa nearly spat her juice. “Who told you that, Mother?”

The Queen didn’t even look at Isa as she answered, “Your maid, who else? She followed you once. She informed me the next day, but I knew words wouldn’t have worked, and I didn’t want to tell your father, because he would have just locked you in a tower, so I told her to let you make your own mistakes and learn from them.” She glanced at Isa, then. “And so here we are now.”

Florence was growing more uncomfortable with every passing minute. It was one thing to fight against the King when he was wrong and she was right, and hate and anger were controlling her. It was another thing to face the Queen when she was no longer the victim. This situation was nerve-wracking – she just wanted it to be over already.

“Was Isabella with you those nights, Florence?” the Queen asked, watching her.

Florence looked up at Isa to try and read her eyes, but Isa was looking at her mother, so she just opted to say the truth. “For the past eight months or so,  _yes_.”

The Queen nodded. “And you developed this…  _relationship,_ despite everything that would come along with it.” Florence wasn’t sure whether that was another question or just a statement this time, so she stayed silent. “It was highly irresponsible but quite courageous of both of you, I have to say.”

Florence and Isabella exchanged looks for a brief moment and a smile tugged at Flo’s dimples.

“Isabella told me the whole story, and I’m sorry for what my husband did to your family, Florence, and for all the pain he caused you,” the queen said, going back to business. “I know how much that treaty meant to you and your family, and I’m sorry that my husband broke it for such a futile reason.”

Florence shook her head lightly, glad to see that the Queen wasn’t as insane and cruel as the King. “It wasn’t your fault, your majesty.”

The Queen offered her a sad smile. “Indirectly, it was.” She looked at her daughter before continuing: “Because of my flaws and oblivion, innocent people lost their lives and nothing I do now will bring them back. I’ve failed as a queen and as a mother for many years, and I profoundly regret it.”

Isabella smiled at her mother, reaching out to touch her hand that rested on her lap. “It’s alright, Mother. We’ve all made mistakes.”

The Queen nodded. “But I’m willing to make up for my mistakes.” She gesticulated at her maid, who was standing beside them, and the old lady handed a sheet of paper to the Queen.

“I’d like to make another deal with you, Florence – a definitive one, this time.” She had both Florence’s and Isabella’s full attention now. Florence straightened her back, staring at the Queen.

“I’m listening,” Flo replied.

“From now on there will be nothing forbidding the two kinds – humans and Moors – to relate to each other and transit freely through the two realms. However, any kind of harmful action towards the other kind is permanently forbidden, and whoever infringes this law will pay with their own life. If a realm holds wealth, it shall stay in the realm it belongs to, and whoever infringes this law will pay with their freedom. It’s time for us to leave the past behind us and build a new future together, don’t you agree, Miss Welch?”

Florence was half astonished and half numb. So it took her three seconds too long to realise she was expected to answer that question. She opened her mouth a couple times before any sound actually came out. “Yes, um, yes, your majesty.”

“Are you serious, Mother?” Isabella chirped, too delighted and happy to contain her excitement.

“Yes, I am, darling.” The Queen smiled sympathetically. “And there’s more to come,” she announced and Florence fought with all her strength not to get distracted by the images that were already forming in her head and to focus on what the Queen was saying.

“I cannot just expect the whole kingdom to understand this sudden change, nor can I force them to accept it overnight. Some will accept it more easily than others and some won’t accept it at all – it will be a slow process altogether. But I cannot force you to stay here, either, darling.” She took her daughter’s hand in hers. Isabella swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her throat.

“You are the heiress to the throne, Isabella. I trust you this kingdom, and one day you’ll have to rule it. But until then, you get to choose which realm you’d like to live in. You have my blessing.”

Isabella gasped. Now  _that_ was something she hadn’t seen coming at all. She had expected her mother to begrudgingly let her go live her life the way she wanted, but she had never thought she would be fine with that – with _any_  of that; from the new treaty to giving them her blessing, it had all been a massive surprise.

Florence was still trying to keep up with all the sudden good news, part of her still believing that entire conversation was nothing but a dream, still expecting for reality to crash down on her and wake her up. But Isa’s wide smile was too vivid to be part of a dream. So she just let all the overwhelming feelings take over her body and engulf her, drown her, carry her away from her worries and deliver her home.

“Mother, I just—” Isa laughed lightly, her eyes wandering to Florence’s face and holding her glare. “This is just awesome. It’s awesome, right?”

Florence nodded almost frantically, tears of happiness and joy filling her eyes. “Yes, yes, yes! This is all… simply amazing.”

“How have you come to this decision, though, Mother?”

“Well, I know that I can’t keep you here forever. Even if I tried to fight against it you would just escape like you had been doing or just run away once and for all. It would generate even more problems, and I guess we’ve all suffered enough. So all things considered, that’s the least I can do.” She smiled, tenderly. “Of course, Florence still has to sign the deal, if she’s alright with all this.”

The two of them stared at Florence, who was wiping a tear from her eye, waiting. Flo blinked a few times, trying to remember how forming words worked while, honestly, all she wanted was to hold Isabella and kiss her like there was no tomorrow.

“So, Florence,  _deal_?” asked Isa with a wicked grin.

Florence smiled broadly. “Deal.”


	17. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is: the last chapter.  
> I'm sorry it took me months to finish this and I appreciate every and single one of you who took the time to read it, leave kudos and comments <3 I hope you liked this story and that it made you feel something (hopefully something good) at some point :) Thank you Kate for betaing everything you are an actual angel <3  
> May we meet again, guys Xxxxx

  
  
  
  


It was an oddly beautiful day for December. It was cold, but the timid sun shone bright in the incredibly blue sky. Florence was alone in her room (which was now also Isa’s room), getting ready for the celebration that was going to happen in a few minutes.

She was wearing a long, light green dress with long sleeves and silver sandals to match. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun and there were a few strands of hair hanging around her face, and she had a flower crown with white flowers decorating the top of her head. Had it been any other time she wouldn’t have liked to see her pair of wings peeking behind her shoulders, but now she didn’t mind it. They didn’t make her different, anymore – they made her who she was.

She and Isabella had done it: they had restored the peace between Moors and humans. It didn’t matter that it was too soon and that some people still had to learn to like the idea. What really mattered was that the wall of thorns had been removed by Florence, herself, about a month ago, and everything was still calm and quiet – better than when it had surrounded the forest, even. What seemed like an impossible dream only a few months ago was their reality now, and that was what they were celebrating today: what Isa and Florence had done together.

“Mother,” Flo said quietly, looking out the window, “wherever you are now, I hope you’re proud of me.”

A light knock on the door startled her.

“Flossie, stop looking in the mirror and bloody hurry up! You’re going to be late!” said Grace. “You look gorgeous, by the way. But come on, Isa is waiting for you.”

Florence nodded. “Alright, let’s go.”

==

The forest had never been so crowded and so cheerful like it was this morning. All the magical creatures – from small mermaids to glowing bugs – were gathered around the lake to celebrate with the Welch family.

Florence didn’t quite feel comfortable in crowded places, but she didn’t have time to feel nervous because as soon as her eyes fell on Isabella, she was all Florence could focus on and think of. Her silvery blonde hair was pulled to one side and braided, small blue flowers decorated its length. She was wearing a long white dress with blue prints and white shoes. Her full lips were stretched into a happy and hopeful smile that illuminated her eyes and made her look like a teenager who had a whole life ahead of her and this celebration was the first step.

Isabella hadn’t agreed on this celebration at first. She thought it was unnecessary and kind of stupid, but Florence’s pout and the cold shoulder she had managed to keep up for four days had eventually convinced her. Besides, their happiness  _was_  worth celebrating, after all.

When Florence approached Isabella, all the roaring and the claps silenced and Flo’s voice was the only thing they could hear.

“We’re gathered here today to celebrate the union between two kinds that had hated each other for decades, but have finally found peace: humans and Moors.” She turned to her sister and took another white flower crown from her hand, turning around to face Isa again. “In witness thereof, today I proclaim Isabella as the second queen of the Moors,” she said as she placed the crown on top of Isa’s head. “You shall respect her, obey her, and protect her as you’ve been doing for me and my family through all these years. Oh, and also teach her to swim,” she joked, winking at the little mermaids. “With this, we put an end to—”

“Flo,” Isa interrupted her. “I guess they got it.” She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to Florence’s, her hands slipping around her waist, pulling her closer.

They heard claps and shouts and a comment coming from Rob along the lines  _“You should get a room,”_ but they ignored all of that.

“I love you,” Florence said when they parted the kiss.

Isa rolled her eyes playfully. “I believe you’ve proved that.”

Florence pouted. “Only a  _‘me too’_  would have been enough, Isa.”

Isabella narrowed her eyes, smiling broadly. “Yes, but I believe I’ve proved that, too.”

“Isabella Summers you’re… insufferable!” She laughed.

Isa looked over Florence’s shoulder at Grace, who was sitting on a low branch talking to Philip. “Um, it seems like we’re not the only ones in an unimaginable relationship anymore,” Isa joked.

Florence followed her eyes and as soon as she saw the scene, she groaned, making a grimace. “Can you believe the nerve of this prince?”

Philip had come back to the forest looking for Grace only a week after Florence had signed the deal with Isabella’s mother. Persuaded by Isabella, Florence had allowed Grace to see him a few times a week, as long as they didn’t leave the limits of the forest. They had been getting along quite well and seemed to have developed a beautiful friendship. Not that Florence was a hundred percent fine with all this, but then again, she wouldn’t deprive her sister of the happiness she had found with Isa.

“Don’t be grumpy and let the girl be,” Isa scolded her. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

==

They were sitting by the river where they had first met. So much had happened since then, and so much had changed that it almost seemed surreal. Here, with Isabella sitting between her legs and her head resting on her shoulder and their hands linked together, Florence felt so thankful and was so happy –  _oh so glad_  – that Isabella hadn’t given up on her. Although she still couldn’t understand why Isa had insisted so much in being with her, she was glad she had done it – she just couldn’t imagine her life without that tiny, feisty lady anymore.

“Flo?” Isa said softly. “One day I’ll have to go back to the castle and rule the kingdom.” She tilted her head back to look at Florence. “When this day comes… will you go with me?”

Florence smiled, pressing her lips to Isa’s forehead tenderly. “Of course I will. Grace will be old enough to rule in my place. Also…” A short pause. “I’ve lost you once and I’m not losing you again.”

Isabella turned around, then, wrapping her legs around Florence’s hips and her arms around her neck. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Florence bent her head down a little and looked up at her through her fringe. “Are you sure you want to live here with me, though? You know you don’t have to.”

Isabella rolled her eyes, booping Flo’s nose. “I know, but I  _want_  to. I spent my whole life in that castle, Flo. Now that I finally have the chance to live where I want, I sure as hell will do it.”

Florence smiled, but her dark, gloomy mind forced her to insist: “What if you get tired of where I live, too?”

Isabella looked straight into her green eyes – in the daylight Isa could see that they weren’t simply green: there were blue and yellow tones in them, making them the colour of the ocean –, took in her beautiful features, her dimples, her nose, the shape of her eyes, her lips stretched into that flawless smile of hers. Isa touched her face with the tip of her fingers, relishing how Florence bit her bottom lip and pulled her slightly closer. She focused on the way Flo’s fingers were slightly stroking her waist as they held her and how good that small, simple gesture felt to her. She looked into herself and found the peace and happiness she had dreamed of for so long and had finally acquired.

 _What do you do when your house isn’t home?_  Isa asked herself again. Except this time she had an answer:  _You find your home._

“It will never happen,” she answered.

Because right here, with Florence, she knew she had found hers.


End file.
